The Merging
by Canadian Sasquatch
Summary: That night was supposed to be dedicated to watching a hockey game with his best friend. Fighting for his life in a wasted city was definitely not part of the plan. With his best friend missing, the sudden appearance of sadistic Pokemon and humans who have lost their minds, Lee teams up with some unlikely allies to try and survive in what's left of a ravaged America.
1. The End

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon, Game Freak and Nintendo do. (unfortunately)**

**Before you start reading, this fic does involve Pokémon speaking in an attempt to make them stand out as the major characters. This also takes place in the real world, and will contain real places and will be missing some things from the Pokémon universe.**

**If you don't like any of the things above, then this fic might not be for you. Give it a try anyways. You might be entertained...**

* * *

**Chapter 1: The End  
**

The stairwell had been abandoned for a long time. A small hole was blown from the wall, giving a peephole to the derelict streets. Frost collected on the walls, making everything cold to the touch. An aged pool of blood stained the concrete beneath my tattered sneakers.

My breath echoed down the freezing stairwell. White clouds billowed from my mouth as I exhaled deeply, immediately refilling my burning lungs with fresh air. The tattered toque on my head barely kept in my short, straight black hair. My dual-coloured eyes flicked back and forth, stinging from the cold. A loud crash came from the ground level.

"He's running upstairs!" a gruff voice shouted from below. "Don't let him escape!"

I swore in my mind, having no breath to spare for words. Clearing the last stair, I burst through the fourth floor door. My body was too jacked up on adrenaline to register the impact with the metal, or after that when I crashed into the wall on the other side. The sawed-off shotgun I was holding nearly fell from my numb hand. I readjusted my grip, checking briefly to see if I was still holding my bat in my other hand, and sprinted down the hall.

My mind was buzzing as it worked out an escape route. The way behind me was blocked by the small gang that cut me off. There was another door at the end, leading to a secondary exit. I passed a split in the hall that lead to more apartments, barely registering the layout. My focus was entirely on the door ahead. I skidded to a halt as it flew open on its own accord.

At least, it seemed to. I hadn't noticed the red and white furred creature right away, the same one that opened the door from the other side. Its face twisted into a smile that held no humour.

"You're ours now," the Zangoose snarled, charging me a split second later. I wasted no time in running in the other direction, only to have the other door flung open by a large, brown beetle. The deadly pincers on its head clicked feverishly.

"You didn't think you could get away from us that easily, did yah?" he questioned, his mouth clamping sideways. I didn't bother with an answer. These Pokémon would just see it as a chance to go in for the kill.

Instead, I bolted sideways, down the hall to the other rooms. Judging from the pounding of feet from behind, my pursuers were hot on my heels. The end of the hallway ended in another door. However, the type told me it didn't lead to another stairwell, but to an apartment. I didn't have much of a choice. Not bothering to slow down, I lowered my shoulder and charged the door.

The lock snapped from the force, sending me tumbling to the ground. I panicked, now in an extremely vulnerable position. I managed to scramble onto my hands and knees, until an iron grip seized my midsection. The Pinsir lifted me up in the air, cheering.

"Gotcha!" he cried in glee. The pressure increased. My ribs protested under the strain. He sniggered as I struggled to breathe. "Now stop squirming and we'll make your death nice and painless."

I figured death by this group would be anything but nice. "Like hell I will," I choked out. My two weapons were still with me. I angled the shotgun towards my attacker, said a quick prayer and pulled the trigger. The kick of the gun nearly shattered my arm from holding it one-handed. The Pinsir, however, felt a lot more pain.

He howled and his grip slackened, releasing my from his clutches. I landed on my feet, turning around with the gun at the ready. The bug was already out of the fight. He was clutching at the stump were his legs used to be, dark green blood splattering onto the carpeted floor. My victory was short lived though.

The Zangoose barreled into my chest, knocking me onto the floor. I was able to keep a grip on my wooden bat, but the shotgun went flying to my left. The cat-like Pokémon pinned its knee to my chest, preventing me from getting up. It raised its claws for the kill.

"Will you die already?" he spat, thrusting the razor points downwards at my neck.

"Nope," I replied, knocking the blow away with my free arm. The claws missed my head, slicing through my coat instead. Pain seared from the spot from where the claws hit me and I felt the area around it dampening. The Zangoose was knocked onto his belly a few meters away.

I rolled to my feet, my opponent recovering just as fast. The bug was on the floor, screaming in pain. My eyes flicked to the shotgun in the doorway to another room. I would need it if I wanted to survive, and I really, _really_ wanted live.

"Don't even think about it," the Zangoose warned.

Too late. I already thought about it, planned it and was about to do it. A second of hesitation later and I lunged at my primary weapon. The Pokémon was faster, kicking the gun into the room. I didn't slow down. I tackled the beast into the room with me, his claws digging into my arms and drawing more blood. I threw him into the corner, getting into a fighting position.

We eyed each other from different sides of the room, standing on opposite sides of the bed. For a few seconds, we just stared and panted. Then, the Zangoose shrieked and charged, using the bed as a platform to get higher than me. It jumped, aiming for a downwards slash. I swung the bat, smashing its hand under the red-stained wood. He fell to the floor, gripping the crippled hand.

I grinned. Maybe I wouldn't need the shotgun to win after all. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind, the Zangoose decided to pounce on me. I raised the bat to defend myself. It failed, and he latched onto my chest, sinking his fangs into my right shoulder.

It was my turn to scream. The teeth punctured the multiple layers of clothing and dug into my skin. I fell backwards as my legs gave out. A sudden jolt rocked my spine, and my shoulder was relinquished from the Zangoose's jaw. I opened my eyes, seeing that I lay next to a bedside table. The jolt I felt must have been from the corner of the furniture connecting with the Pokémon's face.

The massive cat glared at me from above, removing his hand from a fresh patch of blood on his forehead. He snarled and tried pouncing on me again. I extended my leg, kicking him in the chest and onto the floor. I jumped to my feet and swung the bat at the fallen Pokémon. He ducked and the bat passed harmlessly over him. I retreated to another corner of the room.

I was trying to conceal it, but I was in a great deal of pain. My shoulder felt like it was about to fall off. My ribs ached, probably bruised or cracked from the Pinsir or the tackle. My whole body was worn out from the sprint I'd done just to get to this room, not to mention all the fighting. The Zangoose was also looking beat up and ready to pass out. Voices came from outside the apartment, sounding far off.

"Which way did they go?"

"Maybe they went upstairs?"

The Zangoose grinned, fresh energy pumping through it. "He's in here, guys!" he called out. "Come and get'im!"

My eyes grew wide. This wasn't the first time that I'd fought Pokémon by myself, only this was a different story. The pack that was chasing my earlier had about six different Pokémon. One I could normally take, two was pushing it. But three? Not by myself. I would need all my friends to take them on. We'd gotten split up during the ambush though. They might not even know I was missing yet.

"Your time is up," the Zangoose gloated. He leaped at me, determined to finish me off. I wasn't going to let that happen so easily.

"It might be," I growled, anger surging through me. I swung as hard as I could. Wood and flesh met in mid-air. The bat triumphed over bone and the Zangoose was sent flying into the wall. I raised the bat over my head. The Pokémon had a look in his eyes, silently pleading for mercy. I didn't give in, "but so is yours."

I swung the bat down, splitting his skull. Blood splattered on the walls and on my clothes. My bat was coated in a fresh layer of red. I stood there panting for a few seconds before I heard a crash in the other room.

"Where is he?" demanded a gruff male voice.

"In there," I heard the Pinsir groan, trying to fight through the pain.

I was in motion right away, slamming the door and locking it. The Pokémon outside pounded on the door, the wood splintering from the sheer force. I knew there wasn't a chance in hell it would last more than a few seconds, so I dragged a waist high dresser to barricade it. The door still shook, and I pushed against the barricade to keep it in place. A blue fist punched through the wood. It probably belonged to a Machop. If it was a Machoke who threw the punch, the door wouldn't even exist.

Something wet slid down my face. It took a moment for me to realize I was crying. I guess that came as a minor shock to me. For months I'd been trying to survive in the shattered remains of North America, being hunted by bloodthirsty Pokémon and crazy humans. I'd been placed in desperate situations, escaping death by a hairsbreadth. Only now I was alone. Without the aid of my friends, there wasn't much of a chance of me surviving the next few minutes.

A blade pierced the door. The spike of fear that ran through me diminished a fraction. The appendage was red and black, the tail blade of a Seviper, not a Scyther. I wasn't particularly fond of the mantis Pokémon, though I still wasn't too keen on fighting a giant poisonous snake either.

A small laugh escaped me. Months ago, all my knowledge of Pokémon came from games. My friends and I would speculate things about the Pokéverse, like what our starters would be or what the best type was. Never in a million years would I have thought that those speculations would become a reality.

The door shook violently, a hinge breaking off at the top and I sighed. I missed those old days, where my biggest problems were getting through English class and not being a social outcast. When buying a video game seemed important, or winning a hockey game made you feel like you were on top of the world. Most of all, I missed my family, and hanging out with my human friends. It was the small things that I missed the most.

How did I manage to survive this far? How did I, Leander Kuan Thompson, manage to live while so many others died? I was just a teen from Edmonton, with as much knowledge about surviving the apocalypse as I did of the opposite sex. I thought back to earlier times, before I had to learn how to survive. Before the line between reality and a game became non-existent.

Before the world as I knew it came to an end.


	2. The Beginning

"Why don't you try in school? You can be so smart, but you never apply yourself!"

"I do try, mom! You just don't understand that I'm not as smart as everyone else."

"Maybe you should study more and be more like your brother."

"There you go again. Comparing me to everyone else. I'm not Lee, mom, and I'll never be like him!"

I put my game on mute at the sound of my name. Once again, my older sister, Sora, and my mom were having an argument. It was quiet whenever my siblings were at university or working, but since my sister came home she was getting into daily arguments about the most trivial things. Today, it was about Sora dropping one of her harder courses, and my mom disapproving her choice.

The character on screen died while I was distracted, signalling a Game Over. I sighed and turned off my Xbox. None of my friends were playing any of the games I liked anyways. They were all playing the new Call of Duty since it came out a few days earlier.

I looked around my room, trying to find something to distract myself with for a few hours until I had to go to bed. An old laptop occupied the desk, covered in a layer of worn out clothes. My bed was covered in papers that held notes for a math test I wasn't going to study for. I thought about reading, but I hadn't gotten a new book in ages, and I'd practically memorized all the ones I had. My gaze drifted to my road hockey stick. I could shoot some pucks outside, only the pad was covered in a foot of snow.

Sighing, I got off my bed and into the bathroom. I looked in the mirror as I brushed my teeth. Until recently, I'd never really cared for my appearance. But in highschool, you were judged on how you looked, so I was becoming more conscious about how I looked. I was average size for a fourteen year-old, maybe a bit skinny and more on the shorter side. My straight black hair stuck up slightly at the forehead. My eyes were narrow and slightly slanted, a trait I inherited from my Korean mother.

I spat out the toothpaste. I had mixed feelings about my eyes. They were the one of the first things people noticed about me. Not because you can instantly tell that I'm Asian, rather because they're two different colours. The condition is called _complete heterochromia_, when the irises are two distinctly different colours. The right one was a chestnut brown, like the rest of my family. The other was a bright green, the colour of pine needles.

Turning off the light, I exited the bathroom. My family's shouting could still be heard clearly from downstairs. Tonight was going to be a long night. I thought about popping in a movie to drone out the fight when a really loud yell got my attention.

"Well guess what, mom?" my sister screamed. "Your _favourite_ son failed his last English essay. Lee's not so perfect anymore, is he now?"

"_WHAT_?" my mom yelled.

I froze to the spot as footsteps pounded to the second level. My eyes darted around, looking for a place to hide. The closet wouldn't do. That would be the first place she'd look. The bed was too small to hide under. Maybe I could disguise myself as a pile of dirty laundry? Then my gaze fell on the darkened window.

I ran over and opened it, being instantly greeted by a blast of freezing wind. The winter air bit into my exposed flesh, numbing my skin. I was only wearing a pair of sweats and an Edmonton Oilers hoodie, barely enough protection against the elements. The sound of my mother's footsteps getting closer steeled my resolve. I put a foot on the window and jumped out of the second story.

Okay, I know what you're thinking. I'm crazy for jumping out of the window just to avoid my mom. You don't understand though. My mom is absolutely nuts when it comes to my marks. She wants me to become a doctor so I can be just like her, not working in an oil refinery like my dad. I hate to say it, but she fits the Asian stereotype perfectly. It's not like I'm stupid or anything. I get nineties in other subjects, I just suck at English. Failing a test is as serious as a crime as murder for my mom.

I would rather let gravity decided my fate than my mom any day.

The impact from the snow didn't hurt in the least. A four foot pile of the stuff was heaped along the wall in a massive drift. The snow had been there for a few weeks now, which is part of why I jumped without hesitation. If it wasn't there, I still would've jumped. I may have just ended up in the hospital with a broken ankle.

I brushed the white powder off me before it could melt and ran along the side of the house. That was one of the perks of living in Edmonton. The city was far enough north that its winters could get pretty extreme. Snow was frequent, and due to the lack of heat, it tended to stay on the ground until spring.

A pair of headlights blinded me as I turned the corner to the driveway. My mind instantly jumped to the conclusion that it was my dad and I would be busted for jumping out the window. I was relieved when I saw the door open.

"Lee?" my brother James said in disbelief. "What are you doing out here like that?"

I looked down at myself. True, I wasn't suited for the weather at all. I wasn't even wearing shoes, just soaked socks.

"Uh... going for a midnight stroll?" I lied weakly. James raised an eyebrow, not believing me.

James was a smart guy. He had the Asian smarts, but he got most of his appearance from our Caucasian dad. He was a few inches taller than me, and a lot stronger too, with a mop of messy brown hair.

"Are you going to tell me the truth, or do I have to put you in headlock 'til you do?" he joked. Sure, it wasn't an actual threat, but I still took a cautious step back. It was impossible to escape those. I was about to make up another lie when I heard my mom scream.

"Where did Lee go?" I heard her shriek. I paled and my brother read my face easily.

"Lee," he began, grinning.

"Yeah?"

"I figure you got about ten seconds to run."

I took me about five to realize what he was saying. I said thanks and took off into the night.

"Allen is at May's house in Calgary, in case you're wondering!" he called out to me as ran through the freezing night. I barely heard him. I was too focussed at running away, escaping my crazy mother and her wrath.

That was one decision I always regret. At the time, I thought I was just waiting it out until my mom simmered down and would be happy to see me come back. I assumed that there would be a next time, a place in the future where I could apologize. I didn't realize it, but I wasn't going to see home for a long time.

* * *

It was strangely light outside, and I knew the streetlights were not the source of it. Everything seemed to be tinged in green. I looked up and stopped running almost instantly.

Green lights rippled through the night sky. I knew what they were. High above in the atmosphere, particles were reacting to the sun's radiation. The Aurora Borealis. The Northern Lights.

Normally, you couldn't see the lights in Edmonton. It was too far south to get them often and the light from the city would dim them. There had to be a strong solar flare to cause this. I didn't know how long I stood there, watching the enthralling lights.

"Surprise!" someone shouted from behind me, covering my eyes with gloved hands. I jumped so high that I nearly touched the lights themselves. The same voice laughed. It was a beautiful sound, and I knew just who it belonged to.

"Christ, Jasmine," I said weakly, facing the voice. "I nearly shat myself."

Jasmine giggled, and once again I felt oddly happy. Jasmine was in my grade, and I'd known her for three years since she moved from England. She still had an accent, a British one, which surprised many because her family was originally Indian. Her dark hair flowed well past her shoulders, or it would have if she wasn't fully covered in a thick parka. She had a slim figure and was a bit shorter than me. Her hazel eyes sparkled in the green light of the aurora.

"You're so easy to scare, you know that right?" she smiled. Her expression faded when she noticed my attire. "Oh my God... what are you wearing? Aren't you freezing?"

"A little," I said, doing my best not to shiver. "I guess it's those Canadian genes, eh?"

"Canadian genes won't stop you from freezing to death," she said sternly. I rolled my eyes.

"I'll be fine," I insisted. I pointed to the sky. "You notice the lights too?"

She also gazed up at them. "Yeah, they've been going on for a while now. They're so beautiful."

We stared at the sky for a while. It took a few minutes for me to realize I had lost feeling in my toes.

I cleared my throat. "So, um, where were you heading before you decided to try and make me crap myself?"

"I was just heading home," she said, focusing on me.

"That's great!" I exclaimed. "I'll walk you home."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, a little cold never killed anyone," she gave me an _'are you shitting me_' look. "Okay, maybe it's killed a few people, but that's not important."

"Fine, let's go. We better hurry before you turn into a Leesicle."

She started on her way again and I eagerly caught up. Part of that was due to the cold, but I had other reasons as well. You can probably guess that I had a bit of a crush on her. After all, I was risking frostbite just to stay with her a little longer.

The walk to her house was too short in my opinion. We talked the whole time, mostly about some small stuff and all the stupid drama that was high-school. A few people gave us weird looks as we passed by. I don't blame them. You had a girl bundled up like she was fending off a massive snowstorm and a guy walking around with no shoes or jacket. I just smiled and waved, pretending that nothing was wrong.

We lingered a bit on the goodbyes, but eventually she had to go inside. I resumed my journey alone, sneaking a glance at the lights above. About halfway to my destination, a loud bark gained my attention.

"Oh no," I groaned. "Not again."

I looked back and sure enough, there was my old friend, Chopper the Rottweiler. He slobbered as he sprinted towards me from the other end of the street. I normally like dogs, only I was scared piss-less of this one. That fear is totally justified though. This dog had a hankering for Asian cuisine, and apparently liked the taste of my leg the most. I did the only thing I could think of: Run like hell.

The good news is that sprinting warmed me up. You wouldn't think you'd be able to sweat in negative-ten degree weather, but I was managing just fine.

The bad news? Rottweilers are awfully fast. A minute into the chase and Chopper was only a few meters behind me. Nothing pumps more adrenaline into you than being chased by a rabid dog. Good thing I knew some tricks to escape him. A low-lying fence was coming up and I vaulted it with ease. Chopper plowed face-first into it, giving me a few extra seconds.

True to his ritual, Chopper barked at me for a few seconds before realizing that he could just go around the fence. The chase resumed, and I could already see my friend's house in front of me. In seconds, I cleared the driveway and banged on the door with my fist.

"Steve!" I yelled, not caring who heard me. Chopper was turning the corner. No doubt he would see me. "Open up, man! It's Lee!"

"I know who it is," said my friend from the other side. I felt an immediate rush of relief that was replaced by horror as he continued, "but there's no one named Steve here."

"Come on, man!" I cried desperately. I couldn't believe he would start this again at a time like this. "Just open up! You know I can't pronounce it!"

"Say it."

"I can't!"

"It's simple. It starts with 'N'..."

"I swear to God, man, Chopper's gonna sic balls! My balls!" I yelled. The dog was nearing the driveway now. "If I get castrated, they will haunt you for life!"

I kept pounding on the door, shaking from fear and cold. Chopper was dashing up the drive, eager for some frozen Korean. The door opened suddenly and I fell into the house. It slammed behind me as I crashed to the floor. I could hear Chopper whine behind the door, saddened by its meal getting away once again.

"Underdressed much?" my friend, hoisting me to my feet. I wasted no time in punching him in the arm.

"Not cool, man. Not cool," I muttered. Steve laughed again, and I shot him a glare. "You know I can't say it under normal conditions, let alone when being chased by a crazy dog."

"It's not like I wasn't going to let you in," Steve said, and I was greeted once again by a flash of brilliantly white teeth. It's not that his teeth were really clean, it's because his skin is so dark. Steve was black, taller than me and put his hair in cornrows. I looked like a twig next to his big build, so he was an imposing figure.

"That doesn't matter! Chopper's already bit me enough times, and I didn't want it to happen again," I snapped. My annoyance was only greatened when he continued to laugh. "Yeah, laugh it up, _Steve_."

I put as much emphasis on the name. My friend stopped laughing instantly, turning serious quickly. "That crossed the line."

"So did not letting me in."

I should probably explain the deal with Steve. First off, that's not his real name. We just call him that because his actual name is too damn difficult to pronounce. His parents adopted him from Nigeria at the age of eight, so he doesn't have an American name. His real name is Nwokezuike.

Yeah, you just failed at pronouncing that. Don't feel bad, though. Almost everyone else does. One day, a guy named Matt misheard it and somehow managed to get the name 'Steve' from it. Much to my friend's displeasure, 'Steve' stuck. The only person I know of who can say his name properly is Jasmine.

"So, I'm guessing there's a reason why you don't have shoes?" Steve asked, checking out my soaking socks and snow covered clothes. "Probably a good story, too."

I found myself chuckling, despite my previous anger and the fact that I couldn't feel my feet. "You couldn't be more right. But first, can I borrow some clothes?"

* * *

Half an hour later, we were in Steve's basement watching TV and munching on snacks. His parents had been cool to let me stay the night. They gave me some clothes that fit while my soaked ones dried.

"You jumped out the window to escape from your parents?" Steve laughed for the third time. I just smiled and nodded. "Dude, you are _insane_. And not in the good way either. I think you might literally be crazy."

"Oh, come on," I grinned. "I've done stupider things."

"You mean like the hockey tournament in Calgary?"

"Exactly."

We both laughed loudly at that memory. Our parents grounded us after they found out what we did, and we got benched for a few games. Totally worth it.

It may not seem like it at first, but Steve and I are best friends. When he first came to Canada, he had to learn how to speak English properly. His parents would bring him to a specialist that helped him with pronouncing the words. That's where we first met.

I've always had a problem with speaking. When I was a lot younger, barely anyone could understand me. I ended up in the same place as Steve. Now, we can both speak perfectly, though I have to make a conscious effort whenever I get excited. So while he runs with the popular kids in school and I tend to hang around with the geekier crowd, we're still as close as you can get.

"How long are you going to camp out at my house?" Steve asked.

I thought about it briefly. "Just the night. My mom will simmer down by tomorrow. At least, I hope she will. Running away might have the opposite affect I'm looking for."

"_Effect._" Steve said. He put as much emphasis as possible on the word.

"Come again?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes. "It's _effect_, not _affect_. They are two different words. It's not proper grammar." He smirked. "Maybe that's why the ESL kid is doing better than you in English."

"Oh really?" I narrowed my eyes. Bending down, I picked a cube off the ground. "I wonder how throwing a Rubix Cube at you will _affect_ your face."

"Huh?" Steve's eyebrows scrunched together, before parting just as fast. "Oh shit!"

He ducked, snatching the puzzle in his right hand as it hurtled towards him. I knew he would catch it. Steve was the more athletic one. He even stayed in house-league so we could play on the same hockey team.

"Not cool, man," he said in a serious tone. I may have crossed the line with that one. I apologized as sincerely as possible. When I didn't think, I tended to do really stupid stuff. Not stupid like jumping out the window. Stupid like being a total jerk to friends. I hated when I did that, and tried desperately not to do those things.

"Hello. What have we here?" Steve said. He was searching beneath his couch, pulling something from the dark. Curious, I craned my neck for a better angle, but I still couldn't see what it was.

"What is it?" I finally asked. In response, Steve chucked a thin, rectangular object at me. I shouted and dodged, the object bouncing off the couch and onto the floor. I thought he was trying to get back at me by throwing stuff. He laughed and I realized that wasn't the case. The thing he threw was red on the top and black on the bottom.

It was a Nintendo DS. My DS.

"Holy crap," I breathed. "I haven't seen this thing in ages!"

I snatched it from the floor, ecstatic over finding my old gaming system. I quickly checked it for damage and was glad to find there was none. The game cartridge contained a version of Pokémon Sapphire. The DS turned on and saw that it still had half the charge.

"That thing must have been hidden beneath my couch for ages," Steve grinned. "I really need to clean down here more often."

I only kind of heard what he said. The moment I turned my DS on, I was already starting up the game. Playing Pokémon on an emulator was not the same as playing on a handheld.

"So what now?"

I looked up at my friend, coming back to reality. "Um... I don't know. I was kinda content just to play Pokémon."

Steve nodded. "I guess we could do that."

"How?" I said. "Pokémon is single player."

"Battling over Wifi isn't."

Steve held up his hand. In it, a solid blue DS.

I grinned. "You're going down, my friend."

"We'll see," Steve said, returning my grin. He turned on his handheld, and an epic series of battles commenced.

* * *

"_Scientists were baffled by the strange occurrences last night. The Aurora Borealis, more commonly known as the Northern Lights, could be seen all across the globe. Usually this light show can only be seen in the northern regions, leaving specialists scrambling to find an explanation. So far, the only theory is a solar flare, but one of that magnitude would surely have been detected well before it hit the Earth. In other news, it looks like this year will be the coldest year in decades. Not just for Edmonton, but for the entire continent..._"

A yawn escaped me as I shoveled more Fruit Loops into my mouth, cutting off the rest of what the TV was saying. We went to bed really late the night before. Technically, it could have been considered late morning, and my body wouldn't stop reminding me.

My yawn was greeted by another from the hall outside the kitchen. I looked up to see a squinty-eyed Steve enter. He stared at me in confusion.

"Why are you up so early?" he finally asked, his voice weak.

"Early?" I responded. "Check the time, lazy."

Steve turned to the clock mounted on the wall. His eyebrows shot up, while his eyes themselves remained narrowed. "Whoa... it's already four o'clock?"

"Yeah, you've been out for six hours, give or take," I said with a smile. "Wish I got that much sleep."

"How long have you been up for?" Steve asked, taking a seat next to me. I passed him the cereal, which he used to fill his bowl.

"A couple hours," I yawned. "I don't really know. I spent a while trying to get back to sleep."

Steve didn't answer. He was too busy cramming his mouth with cereal. I stared at the TV screen. The station was showing hockey highlights from the day before. I watched as the reporters went through each memorable moment in the games.

"Hey, speaking of hockey," Steve said through a full mouth, "You got any plans for today?"

"I should probably get back home to my parents," I said. "Why?"

"Because we have three tickets to the Edmonton-Chicago game tonight," proclaimed a new voice. I spun around to see Steve's older sister, Assyria, leaning against a wall.

Assyria was Arabic. Just like Steve, she was adopted from an early age. She had a slight accent, and light brown skin. I wondered when she came into the room. Maybe I was too out of it to realize.

It took a moment for what she said to sink in. "Wait, what? You have tickets?"

"Yup," Steve grinned. "Lower bowl, centre ice. It's going to be _sick_."

My jaw dropped. When my voice returned, it came out higher than usual. "And you're taking me?"

"Of course we are. Who else would we take?"

"I dunno... Your parents?"

Assyria laughed and waved her hand. "Please, like they care about hockey. You and Steve would enjoy it a hell of a lot more than they would."

I turned to Steve. "Man, don't lie to me. You better not be lying to me."

"Dude, I'm serious," Steve assured me. "So, are you in?"

I looked him dead in the eye. "What do you think?"

* * *

By six o'clock, the three of us were piled into Assyria's car. I had my clothes from the night before, plus a pair of ratty sneakers I left at their house and a jacket I scavenged from the closet. Steve and I took the back, while Assyria took the front, the seat next to her covered in a mound of trash. Night came early in November, meaning darkness had already fallen by the time we left the house. The sky forgot about that fact.

"Dude, check out those lights," Steve said, craning his head against the window to get a better look. "They're so bright tonight."

"Yeah, they were going on last night too," I said. Looking to the sky, I noticed something odd. The lights were much more vibrant than the day before. The green waves swirled in the sky, looking more like a cosmic light show.

As I peered out the window, I felt something shift in my sweat's pockets. I felt around and pulled out my DS. Wondering how it got there, I put it back in my pocket, hoping I wouldn't lose or damage it.

"Chicago is gonna crush Edmonton tonight," Steve gloated from beside me, drawing my attention from my pocket. I looked over at him, not surprised at all to see his Blackhawks' snap-back on his head. It could be fifty below and Steve would still try his best to wear that hat.

"Edmonton's been doing good this year," I replied. "They have a decent team, unlike the past few years. This season will be different."

"Chicago has a winning streak going and is top of their division," Steve grinned.

I rolled my eyes and hated myself a little. I knew he was trying to rile me up, but I could never back down from a hockey argument. Clearing my throat, I began the argument the same way I always did: with Edmonton's past.

I won't bore you with the details of our dispute. We went back and forth, point for point. Every fact one of us put out there was shot down a second later. Twenty minutes passed and we were still fighting. Assyria had driven us well into the city at this point. Skyscrapers loomed down from above us, stretching to the night sky. Traffic had been reduced to a crawl as people tried to get out of the city and back home while others tried to get into it for the game. Hundreds of pedestrians crammed the sidewalks, braving the weather for quicker travel.

"Do I need to list off Chicago's stats? Do I?" Steve demanded. I rolled my eyes in response, and he took that as a yes. He started rattling off the team's players and their stats, quickly zoning me out.

A glow appeared in the corner of my eye. I searched for the source and found it was coming from a streetlight. The bulb was getting brighter and brighter, the light becoming blinding. It grew to be too painful to look at and it burst. The sound was quickly absorbed by the noises of the city, but the mini explosion did not go unnoticed.

"What the hell was that?" Steve questioned, his rant coming to an abrupt halt. He was staring wide-eyed at the burst lamp. Several others outside noticed it too.

"It was just a power surge," Assyria clarified from the driver's side. "Nothing else could have done that."

The explanation didn't do it for us. I knew that the lamps were on a power grid, so I assumed that a power surge would knock out the entire street, not just one pole. Steve's curiosity had also peaked and he was looking out the window in an attempt to find anymore anomalies.

"What the hell is that?" he said again, nervousness all too clear in his voice. I felt my heart rate increase along with my anxiety. My bigger friend rarely got scared. "Dude, check it out."

I tried to get an angle, but I couldn't see what he was looking at. Even flattened against the seat I couldn't make out what he was looking at. In the end, I unbuckled my seatbelt and pressed my face against Steve's window also. My eyes grew to the size of saucers, or so I'm assuming.

"Whoa..."

That one word didn't justify what I was seeing. Way above the buildings, the night sky was lit up like a sunset. The Aurora Borealis had evolved into something a thousand times more beautiful than before. The simple green of the lights split into hundreds of different colours, painting the sky all different shades. Reds, yellows, blues and even white were splashed across the inky black canvas of the sky.

"Why did I have to unbuckle again?" I asked absent mindedly. Most of my attention was still on the lights, but my mind tended to wander a bit.

Steve's eyes flicked to the other side of the car before returning to the sky. "Huh, I guess you could've seen it from there, eh?"

"Yeah..."

Entrancing as the lights were, something in the back of my mind was bugging me. I knew this wasn't possible, or shouldn't be possible. Those colours didn't form under normal circumstances. I had a feeling that whatever caused it wasn't good.

My thoughts were shattered by a massive _crack_. I flinched, elbowing Steve in the gut. He grunted in pain, though he didn't retaliate. I was about to ask what caused the noise when another _crack _rang out. This time, it was followed by a shriek of pain.

The noise was a gunshot.

Then I saw it. On the sidewalk opposite of the side Steve and I were on was a lone man. People were running and screaming as they tried to get away. He lowered his arm and fired the pistol again. More screams, and a person collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

"It's the end of days!" the man shouted, his voice ragged. "The sky is the sign of impending doom!"

I briefly wondered where that lunatic got a gun from, but the thought was quickly forgotten when he shot again. My brain flooded with fear. I'd never been in a life or death situation. Now there was a very real possibility that I would be a victim of a shooting spree.

Luckily Steve was a lot more composed than I was. "Drive, Assyria, drive!" he cried from the backseat. The young Arab woman had been frozen in fear. Her brother's voice shook her from her state and she stomped on the gas. The car lurched forward in a squeal of rubber, knocking me back into Steve from the acceleration. Gravity shifted as the car swerved to the left and into oncoming traffic, giving us more room for an escape.

There was another _crack_ as a one more round was released. Time slowed down. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, wanting to burst out. Steve's breathing sounded like massive gusts coming from above my head. I could see the individual faces of the pedestrians outside, terror plastered on their faces.

I could hear the glass shatter and see the blood splatter onto the inside of the windshield.

Assyria's body went limp and slumped onto the steering wheel. The car jerked to the left, veering across the traffic lanes, narrowly avoiding the cars. There was no chance that we would avoid the building though.

Both Steve and I screamed at the top of our lungs, not quite grasping what had happened. All I knew was that we had no control over the car, and we were going head first into a wall. The car jumped as it mounted the curb, tossing me into the air. Then came the wall. Metal grinded against brick. The remaining glass in the car shattered from the impact.

Having hit an unmovable object, the car lost all its momentum, stopping instantly. I was lurched forward and into the back of the passenger seat. My back collided with the seat, my head smacking into the headrest a split second later. Vision swimming, I was able to catch one last scene.

Steve was staring at something in horror, his jaw hanging open. He wasn't looking at me or in the general direction of the gunman. He was staring straight up at the roof. His eyes weren't focused on the interior of the car. They were transfixed on a point beyond the metal.

I wasn't able to make sense of it. Darkness overcame me and I succumbed to unconsciousness.


	3. Wake up!

The first thing I heard were the screams. Most were faint, echoing through the city in jumbled patterns. Others were close enough to distinguish different people, even the genders in some cases. I didn't know why they were screaming.

Next came the pain. It wasn't bad, more of an ache that seemed to encompass my entire body. My spine hurt, my head pounded and my whole body felt like it was being squeezed.

Finally, I opened my eyes. From the dim light, I could vaguely make out my surroundings. I was at the bottom of the car, wedged between the two seats. To my right, I could see the shattered and bloodstained windshield from the gap of the two front seats. I tried to look out the windows, but all I could make out was an endless expanse of black. My gaze drifted upwards to the seat. I half expected to see Steve sitting there, like nothing had happened. I didn't see anything like that.

Something small and definitely not human occupied the seat. My vision was too blurred to make out any fine details. At first, all I could make out was a solid blob of blue, but when it shifted I caught a glimpse of red. I raised my hand to rub my eyes and the blob shifted.

"Oh, you're awake," a male voice whispered at a barely audible level. "Look, don't make a sound."

"What's going-" I started, only for a scaly hand to roughly clamp over my mouth. My ribs compressed as the blob moved to my chest.

"Did you not hear what I just said?" he demanded, digging claws I could just make out into my skin. "Don't. Talk."

My vision finally decided to focus at that point. The thing holding my mouth shut became clear. Two big eyes with red irises stared back at me from an oversized head. A massive set of jaws dominated the head, complete with rows of dagger sharp teeth. A yellow V-shaped design marked its chest. Red spikes ran down the length of the bipedal reptile.

I started struggling wildly. My heart beat faster and faster and my breath quickened. The panic wasn't because the thing in front of me was unfamiliar. I panicked because I _recognized_ it. A scream rose in my throat.

"No! Please, stop struggling," the crocodile pleaded, his quiet voice filled with fear. "If they hear you, they'll come and kill us both."

Maybe it was what he said, or simply the tone of voice that told me he was telling the truth. I stopped my movements immediately, but my wide eyes never left those of the impossible creature on my chest.

"Thank you," he breathed. "Do you promise not to make _any_ loud noises if I take my hand off your mouth?"

I confirmed with a silent nod, and my mouth was freed from his claw.

"What the hell is going on here?" I finally asked, keeping my voice as low as possible. "Why is- why are-w-w-who are..." I stopped and took a deep breath, calming myself. My next words came out slowly to prevent the stutter. "Why are you a Pokémon?"

The Totodile gave me a helpless look and shrugged. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? Do you not remember anything from before? Pokémon didn't exist in this world!"

"I don't know because I can't remember anything!" the Pokémon said harshly. I slowly closed my mouth and fell into silence. "I can't remember my past, my family. I don't even know my name."

"So... what do you remember?" I slowly asked.

"Everything until I woke up," he responded. "I saw other Pokémon, bigger ones than me, chasing down humans and smaller Pokémon. I stuck to the shadows and hid in this car, where I found you. That's it."

His words hit me like a hammer. The car was empty when he found me. What did that mean for Steve? Was he killed? Or did he run away, leaving me for dead? I shut the thoughts from my head. I didn't want to think of the possibilities.

Another scream pierced the night, much louder this time. I could hear other voices cheering as the screams became louder. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Get off me," I told the Totodile, pushing him lightly. "I need to see what's going on out there."

"Are you sure, man?" he asked cautiously. I nodded and he climbed back onto the seat. "Just keep your head down as much as possible. And try not to be sick by what you see. It isn't pretty."

I rolled onto my stomach in the cramped space and went into a crouched position. Very slowly, I raised my head. The night sky came more into view. The lights had stopped shining, replaced by twinkling stars and a bright moon. Many of the buildings looked different. Windows had been smashed and cracked, and they looked much more worn out than they were a few hours ago.

My eyes eventually leveled out with the bottom of the window, giving me clear view of the street. The Totodile's warning came in handy. I nearly puked at what I saw.

From the dim light of the few functioning street lights and moon, I could make out a group of creatures huddled in the middle of the street. I knew they were Pokémon because they weren't any animals that I'd ever seen before. There was one human man, and he was in the middle of the group.

I couldn't tell exactly what the Pokémon were doing to him, but I had a pretty good guess from his screaming and the amount of blood I saw. My stomach churned and I turned away from the scene. I slid back down to the bottom of the car, sweating and feeling very cold. My Totodile companion looked down at me with something like pity.

"I told you it was bad," he said.

"Why are they doing this?" I muttered. "Can't... can't they just eat other food?"

"I guess they could," the Totodile shrugged. "Maybe the only way they know how to get food is through hunting. Humans are very easy prey... and they smell delicious."

He said that last part so quietly, I almost missed it. Thinking I definitely misheard, I looked up at the Pokémon. He was staring at me hungrily, a feral look in his eyes.

"Come again?" I squeaked. The look in his eyes disappeared, returning to the fearful state.

"Sorry, what?" he asked.

"You just said that humans smell delicious."

"No I didn't."

"Yeah, you did."

"Look, it's not important who said what," he said, dismissing the argument with a wave of his clawed hand. "We should focus on getting out of here. That group is still going to be hungry after their man-wich."

I could still hear the noisy sounds of the Pokémon feasting outside the car. Something snapped very loudly. "I dunno... this car seems like a much better option than out there."

"Man, we need to go. If those guys decide to recheck this car, we're screwed," the Totodile argued. "You got lucky they didn't find you the first time they searched the car."

My eyes narrowed to slits. "They searched this car already?"

"Yeah," the Totodile nodded. "They smelled the blood from the driver seat and took the body. Its smell masked yours."

The body in the front... That must have been what was left of Assyria. The Totodile didn't mention anything about another person. Steve might still be alright. He could have gotten away to find help.

"Okay," I nodded, "we'll do it your way. Lead the way."

The Totodile nodded and took one last look out the window. He opened the door opposite of the road, the one leading into the alley. The door opened without a sound and the Pokémon hopped out, with me following close behind.

You might think that was an idiot move. It definitely was. But I'm a smart idiot. Before I left the car, I grabbed a tire iron that I found beneath seats. It was flakey and rusted to oblivion, though it would serve as a good club. If anything got close to me, I'd at least get a shot in.

The Totodile was waiting next to the door as I crawled out. My eyes were trained on the ground. As I cleared the car, my blood ran cold.

A hat lay on the ground, almost under the car. It was a Chicago Blackhawks snapback. _Steve's _Chicago Blackhawks snapback.

It was splattered with blood.

"What are you waiting for?" whispered an impatient voice. I turned to the Totodile. "Let's get out of here!"

I glanced once more at the hat. It didn't mean anything. Steve could have just lost it. There was a perfectly good reason for the blood. I tore my eyes from the hat. Gripping the tire iron even harder, I caught up with the Totodile. We made it to the end of the alley and came to a stop in the shadow of a foul smelling dumpster.

"Why'd we stop?" I asked, looking both ways down the road. It seemed devoid of life. Trash was strewn across the road. Cars had crashed into each other, into storefronts or stood idle. Many of the streetlights were out, and a few of the remaining ones flickered.

"I should ask you the same thing," the crocodile responded.

"I thought you had a plan," I accused.

"Yeah, I did. It consisted mainly of getting out of that car. But I don't know where to go now."

Something clicked in my mind. "You don't even know what city this is, do you?"

"Nope."

"I should've known," I mumbled. The Pokémon had no memories. Of course he had no idea where to go. "Is it up to me then to decide?"

"Yup," the Totodile looked up at me expectedly. "What place do you want to see the most now?"

I thought about it for a second. I wanted to keep searching the city for my friend. But I knew where I really wanted to go, where I needed to be.

"Home," I said. "I want to go home. See my family again."

"Lead the way then," the Totodile swept his arm out. I grinned and stepped onto the street.

I tensed, thinking this could be a trap. Nothing happened. In a crouch, I ran to the nearest car and took cover behind it. The Totodile joined me a few seconds later. From there, I ran to the next alley, remaining unseen.

"Smart plan there, keeping to the cover," the Totodile complimented. "I just hope there weren't any crazies that spotted us."

"Me too, Steve. Me too," I said and immediately froze.

"What's wrong?" the crocodile asked, my sudden stop not going unnoticed.

I shook my head and slouched. "I thought you were Steve for a sec. I called you by his name."

"Oh... who's Steve?"

"A really close friend of mine," I sighed, grimacing. "He was next to me in the car, but he wasn't there when I woke up... I'm worried 'bout him."

The Totodile remained silent for a few minutes. When he talked, it surprised me. "Look, if it makes you feel better, they only pulled out the one body from the front seat. The back doors were closed until I went in there. Steve could have gotten away."

"He could have..." I repeated in a low tone. Despite the optimism, I couldn't help but think of the alternative.

"Hey, you can call me Steve if you want," the Totodile suggested. "I'm lacking in the name department anyways."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I asked. "What if we find Steve? That'd be confusing."

"When we find him, we can change my name. It's not like I had one before."

I smiled and nodded. "Okay. We'll call you Steve from now on."

"That's more like it."

We continued to the end of the alley, taking shelter behind several trashcans. This one looked similar to before. It had the same deserted and trashed look to it. A crashed car had taken out the window to a nearby Tim Horton's.

"What's _your_ name, by the way?" Steve the Totodile asked.

"Leander Kuan Thompson," I told him. "You can just call me Lee, though. Everyone else does."

"Alright, Lee," Steve said. "Where to now?"

"Same thing as before. Stick to the alleys so we don't-"

"Stop right there."

The harsh command was followed by an ominous _click_. I turned into a statue at the voice. I had a feeling I should either run or fight, but I knew that other sound. It was one I heard in enough action movies and video games. It was a sound I could recognize anywhere.

"Step out from behind the trashcans with your hands up," the voice ordered again. I obeyed and stepped into the open, and came face to face with the barrel of a gun.


	4. Saved By Tim Horton

Two men stood before me. One was really old, at least sixty. His white hair was long and stringy, his face wrinkly. He wringed his hands together. The other was no more than thirty. He was the one holding the pistol. The weapon shook in his hands and he had a scared look on his face.

"W-what d-do you g-guys want?" I stammered. Damn it. What a time for my stutter to come back. It really didn't matter since I was staring down the barrel of a gun, but still. I wanted to go out with some dignity.

"What should I do, Master?" the gun holder asked, turning his head to the old man next to him. "He is just a child."

Did he just call that guy Master? Were these guys crazy?

"He is human," the old man confirmed, resting a withered hand on the gun holder's shoulder. "He was blessed by God, kept safe from this awful curse. He is not one of those terrible creatures that Satan himself has sent forth to scour the Earth."

Yup. They were definitely insane. I wasn't going to complain though, because apparently being human meant I got to keep living. They could believe whatever they wanted as long as they didn't decide to shoot me.

I really wished that Steve came to that realization too. The Totodile stepped out from cover with his stubby arms raised above his head. The old man saw him instantly and yelled in shock.

"It's a demon!" he cried, cowering behind his companion. "You must kill it! Shoot it through its black heart!"

"Demon?" Steve asked. The man whipped the gun towards the Totodile. Steve's eyes grew wide. His body tensed, preparing to jump out of the way.

He never got the chance.

The gun fired with a deafening boom and the crocodile was launched backwards into the street. Blood exploded from his blue chest, spraying the concrete. I stared in horror as my companion didn't return to his feet.

"Shoot the boy!" the old man shrieked, pointing a claw-like finger at me. "He walks with demons. He has been tainted by the devil! Kill him! KILL HIM!"

I tore my eyes from the sight of an unmoving Steve to the men in front of me. The man leveled the gun to my chest. His hands shook violently now. He looked between me and his Master, unsure of what to do.

"Please... Don't d-do it," I pleaded weakly. A tear trickled down my cheek. I didn't bother to wipe it away. "J-just... just l-let me go. Please..."

The man let out a choked sob. "I'm sorry," he croaked. His hand readjusted on the gun. I closed my eyes and waited for the shot that would end me.

_Click!_

No boom followed the empty noise. I opened my eyes a little, just enough to see past the blurriness. The man checked the gun in confusion. I realized with a shock that I was still alive. The gun had jammed!

I had to act now if I wanted to live. The man seemed to have fixed the gun and was lowering it back into position. Rage flowed through me. These men were going to kill me for no reason. They already killed Steve, the person - or Pokémon - that saved my life. I wasn't going down.

Not yet.

With a shout, I lunged forward at the man. The tire iron swung in my hand. It smashed into the hand holding the pistol. There was a sickening crack, and I could feel bone breaking through the metal.

The man yelled out in pain, clutching his injured hand. The pistol skipped across the ground and hit the trash cans. I swung again, this time aiming for my attacker's face. The blow connected and the man stopped yelling, crashing into the brick wall face first. I raised my weapon for another swing.

"You will not triumph, demon-walker!"

I stopped myself before I could let another blow fall. I'd forgotten about the other person. The old man was crawling on all fours to the cans. His hand was only a few feet from the gun. I sprung into action, diving at the lunatic. We met in a tangle of limbs, knocking over the trash cans. My rusty tire iron smacked against the ground and I heard and felt something snap.

The old man pinned me to the ground. He wrapped his withered hands around my throat and squeezed. For as old as he looked, the man had a grip. As soon as he applied pressure, I couldn't breathe. I struggled, flailing my arms and legs in an attempt to hurt him.

"Stop... resisting... demon-walker," the old man said through gritted teeth. He jerked his hands and smacked the back of my head into the ground. Pain erupted in my skull. Stars swam in my eyes as my vision turned into a blur. My attempts at hurting my attacker grew weaker, almost stopping altogether.

I could feel the life leaving me. I didn't want to die, but I didn't seem to have much of a choice. The black edges of my vision slowly swallowed up the world. My heart beat faster and my lungs heaved for the air they craved.

This was how I died.

Suddenly, a blue jet smacked into the old man, knocking him off me. Water splashed onto my face and I regained my senses. I gasped, sucking in as much air as possible.

"Huh... so that's how I use that."

I turned to see Steve on one knee, hunched over in pain. Water dripped from his muzzle and pooled beneath him. One hand propped him up while the other clutched his bullet wound, blood seeping from between his claws. I was greatly relieved to see the Totodile alive, but I had more pressing matters to deal with.

I glanced down at my weapon. The curved end had snapped off from hitting the concrete, ending in a ragged point. Turning, I faced the man again. He was struggling to his feet, his clothes dripping wet. His eyes were furious, glaring daggers at the Totodile, and his mouth was pulled back in a feral snarl.

"Demon," he growled.

I clutched the tire iron in my hands. "His name is Steve."

The old man roared and charged at me. I did the same, sprinting with my shoulder lowered. A metre away, I jumped, tackling the old man in a flying dive. His light figure crumpled and we fell to the ground, my arms wrapped tightly around his body.

We hit the concrete and he cried in pain. Something hot spurted against my face. I winced, loosening my grip on the trashing man. That was a mistake. He punched me in the face and I let go. I scrambled back on all fours to put some distance between us. I didn't want to get strangled again.

Turns out, I didn't have to worry about being attacked. The old man clutched at his arm. Bile rose in my throat when I realized what happened.

My tire iron stuck out from the man's arm. It must have pierced his arm when I tackled him. He tried to pull it out, only to shriek in agony. The jagged piece of metal was wedged in between the two bones of his arm.

"We'll settle this another day, demons!" he cried. He ran down the alley, his arm leaving a trail of blood. I secretly hoped some Pokémon would catch him. I know, it sounds really cruel, but a man that crazy didn't deserve to be running around the streets. He could kill someone else.

Steve groaned in pain once again and I rushed back to him. His blue scales were pale and sweat collected on his forehead. I flinched when I saw the exit wound on his back. It bled profusely.

"Crap, man. You okay?" I asked.

"I feel just fine. I get shot on a regular basis, you know," Steve grunted. He doubled over and coughed.

"Okay, so it was a stupid question," I admitted with a weak smile. "Sorry for wondering."

"Sorry for being a dick," Steve mumbled before managing a small chuckle. "It hurts like a bitch, though, in case you're still wondering."

"Yeah, well, you did have a small hunk of metal pass clean through you."

We both laughed. It was a short lived moment of humour. Multiple voices echoed from the street at the other end of the alley.

"The smell of blood is stronger this way."

"Of course it is. Just follow the trail of it. Some poor sucker is injured badly."

"Heh heh... maybe we can put him out of his misery then."

The voices laughed loudly. The cruel sound brought me back to reality. I checked Steve again.

"Can you walk?" I quickly asked. He tested getting to one leg, only to fall back down with a grunt. "Oh crap..."

"Just leave me here," he said. His voice was strained and full of pain. "I'm not going to make it much longer. You need to get to your family."

I looked down at the injured Totodile. He was right. He would just slow me down if I took him with me. His body would distract the other Pokémon and give me time to escape.

Tears welled in my eyes, and I fought them back. No way was I going to cry again. I couldn't leave him. The very thought of it disgusted me. Steve saved my life more than once. The least I could do was return the favour.

I shifted my hands around his mid-section, trying to find a better grip. He was slick with blood, so finding a way was difficult.

"What are you doing, Lee?" he asked, noticing my movements.

"If I'm finding my parents, you're going to meet them," I grunted, lifting up the Totodile. "You're coming with me."

Steve didn't make a coherent response. He yelled in pain when I picked him up.

"You here that? The sucker's still alive!" shouted a voice from down the alley. I couldn't see them, but they sounded close.

"Yes! Fresh meat!" another cried.

I swore in my mind. We needed a place to hide, and quick. I frantically searched the street. The discarded cars wouldn't do us much good. They would only provide us with temporary cover. My eyes fell on the Tim Horton's across the street. The lights were off inside, making it look abandoned.

The voices grew louder. I'd have to test our luck.

I sprinted for the broken window. The car was blocking most of the new entrance. I jumped, sliding along the hood of the car. Since I had to take physiotherapy for an old knee injury, I had excellent balance. That didn't stop me from nearly falling to the ground as I stumbled into the restaurant. I eyed the counter.

I didn't have much time to waste. Running towards it, I tossed Steve. The Totodile hit the counter and slid off onto the other side with a muffled grunt. I did the same, rolling across the smooth surface and having a slightly more graceful landing next to the Pokémon.

"Was it really necessary to throw me?" Steve groaned from the fetal position.

"Dude, quiet down," I told him. Then, as an afterthought, "And maybe I wouldn't have to throw you if you weren't so heavy. I could've run faster if you weren't so fat."

"Oh, ha ha. Make fun of the guy with a hole in his stomach."

I heard the voices get louder and hushed him. Very slowly, I peeked my head from behind the counter. A large group, or maybe a pack, of a dozen Pokémon stood at the edge of the alley that we just ran from. They had their backs to the restaurant. Maybe they hadn't seen us.

I ducked back behind the counter. Steve's breaths were sharp and ragged. I needed to find a way to help him, but I didn't have much experience when it came to bullet wounds. Still, just some bandages would do wonders for the blood loss.

A delicious smell wafted to my nose. I looked up into the racks of the pastries that lined the walls. My stomach rumbled at the thought of food. When was the last time I ate? Those pastries were so close. I could really go for a doughnut at that time. Hell, even a Timbit would be nice.

I forced the thought of food from my head. No time to think about eating when there was a pack of Pokémon who would gladly make me their next meal. My gaze drifted from the wall to a door a few metres down. I could barely see through the gloom, but I knew well enough what it was.

As gently as I could, I picked Steve up off the ground. He whimpered as I lifted him. I don't know how much it hurt him, but he did a good job of biting his tongue.

I inched along the floor on my rear, careful not to go above the counter. If I was spotted, it was game over. I crawled through and felt around for the door. My hand closed around the cold steel and I shut it as quietly as possible. I instantly regretted that decision.

It was impossibly dark inside the kitchen. The only light had come from outside, and I just sealed it off. I couldn't feel for a light switch since I was holding Steve. I took a step forward and smashed my knee into something metal.

"Could you be any louder?" Steve groaned.

"Give me a break, I can't see," I said, biting back curses. "I don't know where the lights are."

"Then use your phone."

How did that occur to an amnesiac before me? I shrugged off the oddness of it and changed my hold to cradle Steve in one arm. My free hand fished around in my pocket for my phone. I pulled it out and hit the home button.

Nothing happened. I tried again, but no light flashed.

"... The hell?" I mumbled, placing the useless phone back in my pocket. I charged it before I left the human Steve's house. It shouldn't have been dead already. Something bulky rubbed against my other leg. Confused, I switched Steve from arm to arm and pulled out the object. I opened it and brilliant light streamed from my DS. I'd forgotten about the handheld.

The gaming system shone a bright beam of light throughout the room. Guided by the light, I found a counter and cleared everything on it so I could place Steve down. The Totodile looked bad in the better light. His blue scales were pale and mostly hidden by blood. I needed something to stop the flow.

I flicked the DS back and forth, trying to find something similar to bandages. The light shone across pots, pans and a batch of unfinished pastries. The thought of wrapping Steve in dough like a croissant might have brought a smile to my face under different circumstances. Finally, in the back, I spotted a white roll. I grabbed it and brought it back to Steve.

"Are you serious, Lee?" he said weakly, raising an eyebrow. "You're going to bandage me with paper towels?"

"Hey, it's not like I have much to work with," I complained. One hand holding my DS, I tried to wrap Steve's midsection with the paper. They soaked up the blood in seconds, turning a deep shade of red. The paper wouldn't stick though. It kept sticking up at the ends and allowing blood to escape. I grabbed a container of maple syrup.

"You got to be kidding me," Steve mumbled, eyeing the syrup.

I didn't respond. I slathered the syrup onto the sheets and wrapped Steve with them. It worked, and Steve's abdomen was tightly wrapped in the paper towels. Blood still seeped through. Sure, he wasn't bleeding as fast, but this still wasn't good.

"This isn't going to do," I muttered, observing the patchwork.

"It'll be fine," Steve said. His voice was barely above a whisper. "It's not like you can do much more."

I shook my head. "No, you need proper medical supplies."

"We're in a freaking Tim Horton's, in case you haven't realized. I doubt they have anything close to proper medical supplies here."

He was right about that. The restaurant was probably devoid of anything used to treat bullet wounds. Even if it did, I doubted they would be in the kitchen. I wasn't going to risk searching the front, not with those Pokémon still out there. In the dim light, I could see an emergency exit. The light was burnt out, but the sign above the door could still be read.

"Where are you going, man?" Steve asked, watching me walk towards the back of the kitchen.

I stopped at the door, my hands resting on the handle. "I remember a pharmacy being a few blocks from here. They have to have some sort of supplies, actual bandages at least."

Steve was quiet for a while. "Lee, that means going outside alone." He waited for a response, and when I didn't give one, he continued on. "You... you can't do that! There are Pokémon on the streets that will kill you."

"I know."

"Going out there is suicide. You can't go!"

I knew Steve was right. I was never a fighter. These Pokémon would tear me apart if they got hold of me. I wouldn't stand a chance against them, not alone.

But I couldn't stay here and wait to see if Steve survived. He needed to be bandaged right, or he'd bleed out. I had to do more for him. He might not have meant to, but by warning me of the killer Pokémon, he saved my life. I would have walked in this new world completely off guard.

He saved my life, and I was going to return the favour.

"I have to," I said quietly. "I'm not going to let you die."

I turned to my left, inspecting the rack of kitchenware. Grabbing two frying pans, I went back to the door. I returned my DS to my pocket, shutting off the light. Taking one last deep breath to steady my nerves, I pushed open the door and walked out into the night.


	5. Sneaky Sneaky

_What the hell am I doing?_

That thought bounced around in my head as I crept down the alley. Seriously though; what the hell was I doing? I was going on a suicide run for bandages so I could possibly save a Totodile's life with nothing but a frying pan for protection. Out of all the stupid shit I've done in my life, this one takes first place by a long shot.

Where did I even get the balls to do this? I wasn't exactly considered brave. If a fight broke out in hockey, I tried to stay out of it. Heck, Jasmine nearly made me crap my pants by sneaking up behind me. Imagine if a Pokémon did that. Then again, if that happened, soiled underwear would be the least of my worries.

I stuck close to the wall as I approached the end of the alley, reducing my chances of being seen. See? I was smart there. I was also smart when leaving the Tim Horton's. The other pan I took I used to keep the door ajar. The back entrance opened up into the alley, so I didn't have to worry as much about the gang in front.

I could see the pharmacy on the other side of the road. Its sliding doors were ajar, just enough room to slip through. To get there, I would have to cross about fifty metres of road that was choked by numerous cars. Seems simple enough, or it would have been, if it wasn't for the group of Pokémon halfway in between.

Swearing, I ducked behind the wall. No way could I get pass them. They could see the pharmacy doors perfectly from where they were. I needed to get into the store though. I checked again.

There were at least five of them. I couldn't really tell the exact number. I could only see the ones that cleared the cars' roofs. They chatted in a circle in the middle of the street, breaking windows and such. They weren't really paying much attention in my direction. I could get closer to them if I was quiet.

"What the hell am I doing?" I mumbled one last time. I took a deep breath and sprinted for the nearest car. Once safely in cover, I peered through the back window of a car. A small red light blinked on and off from the rear-view mirror. It was kind of distracting, but looking pass it, I saw that the Pokémon were still in the same spot. They hadn't noticed me.

Cars jammed the road. Moving to each one was easy, since all it required was clearing a five foot gap. After five minutes of doing that, I came within fifteen feet of the group. I was so close, I could hear their conversation.

"Man, I wish we got more of that guy," a male Golduck griped from the hood of a car.

"Yeah, he looked delicious," a Nidorino agreed. "Stupid assholes had to take him all. Wouldn't even let us have a piece."

"I'm pissed off that they flat out wouldn't share with us," a female Breloom added. "I mean, it's not like they did any work. They just found his body."

"Hey, Charles and I got a leg out of that," a new voice said. It was male, but I couldn't tell where it was coming from. "We tore that thing up. Almost ate the bone too."

That's where I stopped listening. The details were too vivid. These sick bastards actually enjoyed killing humans and eating them. They were laughing about it! I knew that they would kill me if they found me. They wouldn't even hesitate.

I brought my mind back to the task out hand. Forget about the sick Pokémon a few metres away. I had to find a way to get into that pharmacy. Running for it was still out of the option. Even creeping wouldn't do since there wasn't any cover near the store.

I needed a distraction, something to draw their attention somewhere else so I could get inside. But what?

I stared down the road again in search of an answer. I found myself looking at a red light in the car. I don't know why, but I couldn't stop staring at it. There were more pressing matters at hand. Yet, I felt like something about it was important. Then it clicked in my head. I knew exactly what the light meant. The car had an alarm.

And it was primed.

All I had to do was hit the car, and its alarm would go off. Those things were loud. It would definitely distract the Pokémon. I just needed something to set it off. I looked down at my hand.

Suddenly, taking the frying pan didn't seem so stupid anymore. It actually had a use now. I checked one more time through the window, satisfied that the Pokémon weren't looking.

I reared my hand back, clutching the pan tightly. My target was a car about twenty feet away. That would give me enough room to get into the pharmacy. It was the moment of truth. I swung my hand forward and released the pan. It sailed through the air, spinning end over end. Time seemed to slow as I watched it fly through the night...

.. and directly into the window of the car next to me. The glass shattered on contact, breaking the silence of the night. For a horrible second, nothing happened. My heart stopped beating. I was so screwed.

The car alarm began to wail. I clamped my hands over my ears. Sure, I had expected it, but the mechanical shrieking was still very loud. Covering my ears didn't work so well, which meant I was able to hear the car and also the Pokémon.

"Holy hell!" one of them shouted. It was hardly noticeable over the screeching. "What set that thing off?"

"Who cares? Just shut it off!" another said.

Oh crap. They were moving to the car with the alarm. also known as the car right next to me. It didn't take a genius to guess what happened next. I risked another glance above the car and nearly had a heart attack.

The group was manoeuvring through the cars in my direction. I figured I had a solid five seconds to get out of there. Unfortunately, my escape options were limited. I tried to put as much distance between me and the alarm by inching my way along the side car I was hiding behind.

I reached the front, the furthest point I could go without exposing myself.

"It's this one," I heard a voice say from the other side of the car.

"Well then, let's find a way to shut it up!"

I looked to my side. A pickup truck stood parked a few paces from me. The gap underneath was large enough that I could slip under. I didn't have much time to think of another plan.

I scrambled on all fours along the pavement, diving underneath the truck. From there, I crawled to the other side and checked behind me. The Pokémon had their backs turned, completely oblivious to my presence. It was a straight run to the pharmacy at that point, and I snuck in between the doors to safety. No sooner had I entered the building did the alarm go quiet. The night returned to its previous silence.

"Took bloody long enough," one of them said.

I noticed their voices were getting louder. Were they really going back to their previous spot? I couldn't rationalize that decision. If they were, I'd have to hide. I immediately looked to the back. The counter where workers would hand out prescription medication provided perfect cover from the outside. I sprinted over to the back and hid behind the counter.

It was dark in the pharmacy, almost as dark as the kitchen in the Tim Horton's. I fumbled for my DS and flipped it open. Light spilled from the screens. Swearing, I angled the handheld to the ground. I didn't want anyone from outside to see the light.

I checked to see if the Pokémon were out there. I couldn't see anyone and breathed a sigh of relief.

Still in a crouch, I moved along the counter. I bounced the beam off the walls in search of anything to bandage Steve. Shelves stocked with meds looked back at me. It occurred to me that I had no idea where to look.

"Where are the bandages?" I mumbled to myself. "Certainly not in the back." My light swept across a green box attached to the wall. A red cross decorated the front. "Or maybe not."

I opened up the First Aid box and grinned. It was stocked with supplies: bandages, painkillers, medical tubing, antiseptic. You name it, the box had had it.

I grabbed a plastic shopping bag from under the counter and stuffed the bandages in. Next went the disinfectant. I picked up a long and thin cardboard box. Small print was written on the side, but it was too small to read. I took a syringe out of the cardboard case. Holding my DS close, I attempted to read the small words.

"Morphine," I mumbled dumbly. I knew what it was. The drug was a powerful painkiller made from poppy seeds, the same plant that could be refined to make heroin. See? Told you I was smart.

The only thing I didn't know was why morphine was in the first aid kit in a local pharmacy. What was the worst that could happen? A paper cut? My thoughts were interrupted when something crashed loudly to the ground behind me. I spun around to face the noise.

The DS fell to the floor, with the bag of medical supplies following close behind. The syringe stayed in my hands, but I hardly noticed it. Instead, most of my attention was directed to the two wolves in front of me.

The two hounds were big to say the least. They were definitely bigger than Chopper. Pure black patches of fur could be seen in their gray coat, colouring their tails, feet. A black mane of fur started from the head and travelled along its back. And the teeth. I couldn't miss the teeth. Their jaws were filled with pointy canines, speckled with blood, just as their fur was.

The Mightyena at the front chuckled. "Look at the silly human's face. He looks like he crapped himself!"

"Heh, if he did, I wouldn't care," his friend said, knocking over a carton from the table he was standing on. "Probably has more meat on him than that guy in the alley, eh, Charles?"

"You know it, Kent. All we got was a leg."

My mouth made some attempts to form words. No matter what I did, I couldn't say anything. My mind had gone numb from shock at what they said. The guy from the alley... was it the same guy that I knocked out? And if it was, did that mean I was responsible for his death?

I took a step back. "L-look guys. You don't wanna do this. I mean... there's some food over in one of those alleys." I jabbed a finger to the nearest shelf. "I can see some beef jerky from here."

"Ugh, jerky?"Charles spat, sending a disgusted look at the shelf. "What do we look like to you? Animals? We want some fresh meat!"

I resisted the urge to break down. This was not going my way. "Maybe we can work something out-"

"Ah, screw this, man," Kent interrupted. "Let's kill him already. I'm hungry!"

He didn't wait for his friend's agreement. He charged along the counter and pounced, his razor teeth aiming straight for my neck.


	6. I Make Friends at the Pharmacy

I barely understood what was happening until it was almost too late. My arms flung up by their own accord to shield my body, causing my fists to catch the Mightyena right under the jaw. While that stopped his teeth from impaling me, it didn't stop the wolf from knocking me to my ass.

I hit the ground hard, my head cracking against the tiles. Kent the Mightyena tumbled over me and into the wall, nearly bringing my arms with him. Something was yanked out of my hands, but I didn't really notice due to the head trauma. I couldn't even see clearly.

A heavy weight sat on my chest. Something sharp dug through my coat and into my shoulders. Hot, foul smelling breath washed over my face. My vision cleared and I stared right down a muzzle filled with teeth.

"You don't seem to have much fight in you," Charles said menacingly. "Shame. It'd be more fun if you struggled."

"You're a sick bastard, you know that?" I growled. I didn't care what his reaction would be. I was pissed at this guy. This... whatever this thing could be called.

"A sick bastard's still gotta eat," Charles laughed. "Ain't that right, Kent?"

Kent didn't respond. Charles looked up and froze at what he saw. I craned my neck, but I couldn't see where the other Mightyena fell. The pressure on my chest increased and I turned back to my main problem.

"I'll kill you!" Charles howled in absolute fury. Saliva spat on my face and I cringed. I opened my eyes just in time to see his jaws racing towards my head.

"NO!"

Right as the teeth were about to close around my neck, a beige blur struck Charles in the face. The blow didn't carry much power, but it was enough to prevent me from dying. The wolf barely flinched and glared up at the attacker.

"You stupid bitch!" he roared and pounced off me. There was a high pitched shriek of pain from behind me and a lot of snarling. I don't know where I found the strength to get up and not just lie there. I got to my feet and turned to face my attacker and savior.

A young girl struggled on the ground, kicking wildly at the Mightyena. The wolf barely reacted to the blows. He just clamped onto her leg and tried to tear it off. The girl was crying in pain, trying to free herself. A wooden bat lay between us.

"Get off of her!" I shouted and charged at the wolf. I threw the hardest kick I could at the Mightyena. My foot smashed into his muzzle and sent him flying into the counter with a howl of pain.

Charles got back to his feet, his eyes filled with burning hate. "That all you got?"

"Not quite," I grabbed the bat off the ground as Charles charged me. My aim may have been crap in baseball, but, man, could I take a slap-shot. I swung the bat as hard as I could, forcing the Mightyena to the ground again. The blow jarred my entire arm and I almost dropped the bat. Charles tried to stand. I wouldn't let him.

I cleared the distance between us and brought the bat down hard. A sharp crack followed the blow against the wolf's skull. Charles still moved so I swung again.

And again.

And again.

I don't know how many times I swung that bat. It registered somewhere in the back of my mind that Charles had stopped moving around the third blow. I didn't stop though. I just kept smashing his skull until my entire arm was sore. When I finally stopped, I allowed myself to see what I did. My stomach churned.

Blood and gore splattered the counter, floor and my clothes. Bits of bone, pink mush and fur were all that were left of what used to be a head. No matter how much I wanted, I couldn't tear my eyes from the sight. I had done this.

I heard a small whimper and I spun around, just stopping myself from braining the young girl. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched her injured leg. Her eyes flicked between me, Charles' body and the corner behind her. I followed her eyes to the twitching body of Kent. The morphine needle stuck out from his fur and white foam bubbled from his muzzle.

"Oh, Jesus," I mumbled, looking back at the girl. "Are... are you alright?"

I took a step forward to help her, but she scrambled back. The fear was plain in her eyes.

"No, no I'm not gonna hurt you," I said, trying to put on what I hoped was a friendly smile. "I promise. I just wanna help. See?" I dropped the bat and kneeled. The girl stopped crawling back, but held a wary gaze. "I'm Lee."

"Becca," the girl responded.

"Becca, mind if I take a look at that bite?" I asked, pointed to her bleeding calf.

"Why?" She squinted at me and tucked her leg close.

"I just wanna see how bad it is."

Reluctantly, she extended her bad leg, grimacing while she did so. I rolled up her pant leg as carefully as possible. She let out a small whimper. I could tell why. I breathed in sharply when I saw the wound.

"How bad is it?" she asked, noticing my reaction.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "It's not... that bad. It's not good though."

Like I said, my mom was the doctor in the family, not me. But you didn't need to be one to tell that the injury was in desperate need of proper attention. Her leg was a mess. Through the blood, I could make out dozens of punctures, some small, some massive gashes. One of them went down to the bone.

"Can you heal it?" Becca asked desperately.

I looked her in the eyes and caved at the look. I sucked at saying no. "I'll... I'll try, but..."

My sentence trailed off into nothing. Someone was speaking outside. I risked a look and saw the Pokémon from earlier looking around at front. One of them pointed towards the door at the front.

"Oh shit," I breathed.

"What?" Becca said. "What's wrong?"

"Um... look, I need you to trust me, okay?" I told her. She gave me a silent nod. "I'm going to take you somewhere safe and bandage you up there. I can't do it here. You think you can walk?"

"No!" she said sharply. "Do you really think I can stand on this leg?"

"I'll have to carry you then," I sighed. I scooped up the medical supplies and shoved my DS in my pocket. I grabbed the bat and held out the supplies to Becca. "Carry this."

She took the bag from my hand without a word, storing it in her backpack. I helped her into a standing position and bent down so she could get on my back. As I stood, my gaze drifted to the door.

The Pokémon were staring right at us.

"Get them!" the Golduck roared. I froze to the spot, but Becca kept her head.

"Quick!" She pointed to a set of doors at the back. "There's an exit back there. That's how I got in!"

I bolted for the back as the glass at the front shattered from the Pokémon's assault. Their shouts followed me as I ran from the building.

* * *

The pan skittered across the tiles, the noise being drowned out by the resounding clang of the emergency exit being slammed shut. Once again I found myself in pitch black, unable to see the metal in front of me.

It wasn't silent in the kitchen. Not by a long shot. My breath came in ragged bursts, the loudest sound in the room. Muffled sobs came from my back as Becca tried to hide her crying. I felt like joining her. The past hour had been way too dangerous and stressful. I was on the verge of a breakdown.

"Yo, Steve, you still alive?" I asked the darkness.

"Barely," answered a faint voice from the gloom. I fished around in my pocket for my DS, bringing out to lighten the kitchen. Steve hadn't moved from the counter. His abdomen was still wrapped in paper towels that were now stained red.

"Becca, I'm going to need those supplies now." I told my companion. Becca slid down my back, whimpering in pain as she tried to put weight on her injured leg. I quickly unzipped her bag and pulled out the medical supplies. Becca stayed put, her eyes wide and staring at Steve. I didn't have time to ask what was wrong. Steve was still badly hurt, and I rushed over there to help.

One by one I pulled out the supplies. Bandages, antiseptic, painkillers and other things littered the table.

"Thought you were never coming back, Lee," Steve said faintly. His mouth was twisted into a permanent grimace.

"C'mon, you really think I'd leave you here to die?" I said.

"A little," he said. "I was also scared that you were killed. Or captured."

Part of me was hurt that he would think I would just leave him to die. I would never do that. Not when that person desperately needed me. Another part of me was glad that Steve was genuinely concerned about my well being though.

"Lee, what are you doing?" Becca gasped. I turned to see that she hadn't moved from the door. "Why are you helping him? He's a Pokémon, he'll kill us!"

"I like your new friend," Steve muttered.

"Shut up, man," I said quietly through gritted teeth. Looking back at Becca, I saw that she had picked up the bat, and was slowly inching her way over. "Look, Becca, I know you're scared, but Steve is not like the others. He's a good guy. He's on our side."

"But... but, he's a Pokémon!" Becca repeated shrilly. "How do you know he won't attack us as soon as he can?"

"Because he saved my life," I replied with a flush of anger. It quickly subsided. Anger never lasted long in me. "And now I'm going to save his."

Becca was silent as I turned back to Steve. I fixed the DS to the rack above him, shedding some light onto the grisly worktable. As carefully as I could, I unravelled the makeshift bandages. I suppressed the urge to gag when I saw the wound.

A gaping hole punched all the way through Steve's abdomen. Dried blood crusted the edges, and the hole was anything but clean. The only good thing was that it had stopped bleeding.

"That bad, huh?" Steve asked. I realized that my face was pulled into a look of disgust and horror. Too late did I wipe it off my face. Steve noticed that too. "Don't lie to me, Lee."

I cursed in my head. "I'm no doctor, man. All I can say for sure is that it's not good to have holes where there shouldn't be holes. And this... this is a nasty looking hole."

"So what now?"

I didn't respond. I grabbed a bottle from the counter. Not the maple syrup this time, but the bottle of antiseptic. I unscrewed the lid and the pungent odor of the Hydrogen Peroxide wafted out. My nose crinkled at the smell. Very slowly, I tipped the bottle over the wound.

My hand stopped moving, not allowing any liquid to pour out. It was shaking wildly. What the hell was I doing? I had no medical knowledge. I had no idea on how to treat gunshot wounds. After I cleaned out the hole, then what? Wrap some bandages around it and call it a day? That's not how these things worked. They required stitches and therapy and weeks of recovery. Basic medical supplies wouldn't help for a bullet to the gut.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked, worry clear in his tone.

"I don't know what I'm doing, man," I croaked. "I can wrap you up, but as far as getting you better, I have no idea what to do. What if it's not enough and you... and you die?"

"You're a teenager, Lee. I know you don't have any experience at this. And, even if it comes to that, at least you can say you tried."

"I don't want it to come to that! If you die because of me, I... I don't know what I'll do. I don't know how to handle that."

"Lee, look at me," Steve ordered. I forced myself to stare into the Totodile's eyes. Fire burned in them. He was dead serious about this. "Yes, I might die. But, I might live. We don't know what will happen until we do it. So, just do what you think you need to do and we'll worry about what happens next when we get there."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. It felt like I was trying to force a golf ball down it. Steve was right though; doing something was better than nothing. And, God, did I want to do something.

"Alright. Let's do this," I steeled my nerves. My gaze switched to Becca. "I need you to do something for me."

"What is it?" the girl asked. Her uneasiness of Steve hadn't gone away. If anything, it had increased. At least she had put down the bat.

"I need you to hold Steve's muzzle shut. He's gonna wanna scream, but you can't let that happen, okay?"

"I don't wanna put my hands there!" Becca complained. She was alongside Steve now, across from me.

"He's not going to bite," I said, my patience fading.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Steve growled, glaring at the younger girl. Becca took a hesitant step back, wincing from the pain in her leg.

"Dude!"

Steve looked at me, an innocent look on his face. "What? She started it."

"Are we really going to do this now?"

"Fine," Steve grumbled. I gave Becca a quick nod and she retook her spot next to the Totodile. Carefully, she wrapped her hands around Steve's muzzle.

I looked between the two. "You guys ready?"

They both nodded. I swallowed again. It should be easy. All I was doing was pouring some disinfectant on a wound. How hard could it be?

Apparently pretty damn hard, because my hands shook like crazy.

Once again, the bottle tipped on its side. Steve's eyes widened, watching its progress. He knew this was going to hurt. I placed my hand close to the hole, as if keeping it there would make it better. Finally, the liquid poured out and into the wound. The reaction was instantaneous.

Steve's back arched in pain and I pushed it back down. He could make the injury a lot worse than it already was. His eyes screwed shut in pain. Becca was doing her best to keep Steve's muzzle shut, but his cries of pain, though muffled, still escaped.

The wound bubbled and frothed as the antiseptic did its work. I didn't let the stream stop. I knew Steve must have been in a crap-ton of pain, but he needed this. It was killing me to cause him this much pain.

Steve's body suddenly went still. No cries of pain came from his muzzle. I froze, the stream disinfectant coming to a halt. I immediately feared the worse.

My hand shot from Steve's stomach to under his chin. I couldn't feel a pulse from the flesh. I readjusted my hand, hoping I didn't make a mistake. No matter how many times I changed the position of my hand, the result was the same. I couldn't feel anything.

No heartbeat.

Nothing.


	7. Insulin Incident

My eyes screwed up. Tears tried to force their ways out, but I wouldn't let them. I killed Steve. I messed up. Vision blurry, I looked down at Steve's chest. The bloody hole in his gut taunted me. I didn't look at it, kept my eyes focussed on the Totodile's upper body. Watched the blue chest rise and fall rhythmically. Rise and fall. Rise and fall...

Wait a minute...

Not sure if I was seeing things, I placed my hands on his chest. Sure enough, it was rising. I could feel his lungs filling and emptying with air. And just beneath the ribcage, under the cartilage, was a faint beating.

He was alive. Barely, but still alive.

"Oh, thank God," I muttered, letting out a sigh of relief. I rested my hands on the counter behind me, allowing some weight off my legs. Most of the tension seemed to disappear at once. Steve wasn't dead. I thought I had killed him. Right then, I was content to just sit there and be glad that I hadn't killed the Totodile, but there was still work to be done. There was still a hole in Steve's gut that needed to be covered. No one wanted that to get infected again.

Not having to worry about causing pain to him, I was able to quickly wrap Steve's abdomen with the scavenged bandages. They held in place well and didn't immediately become soaked in blood. That was a good sign to say the least.

Becca leaned against the counter opposite from me. Her arms supported her weight fully. Only then did I remember my promise to the young girl.

"Alright, _now_ it's your turn," I told her, waving the bandages and disinfectant to make my point.

"Can hardly wait," she said with a cold smile. My shoulders slumped at her sarcasm. Even for her young age, Becca had a sharp tongue on her. I had a feeling this was going to suck for me as much as it did for her.

We sat down along the rows of steel cabinets on the wall. Gingerly, I rolled up Becca's pant leg to clean out the bites. Despite my best efforts, I winced at the sight.

Her leg was seriously mangled. Through the blood that covered it, I could make out the series of deep gouges made by the Mightyena's teeth. It definitely needed stitches, but a quick wrap was the best I could do at the moment. Grabbing the roll, I began the work of cleaning the leg of blood and disinfecting the wounds. Surprisingly enough, Becca braved through it. She simply whimpered whenever the bandage went over a bite.

"So is he why you went to the pharmacy?" Becca asked suddenly.

I paused my work to look at her. "Come again?"

"The Totodile. Steve." She gestured to the unconscious Pokémon. "Did you go to the pharmacy because he was hurt?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much why. Don't have much else of a reason to go."

I focussed back on her leg. Most of the blood was wiped off. Her injury was starting to look a lot less grisly. I tossed the current piece of cloth I was using to clean and ripped off another.

"Why did you go for him though?" she asked again. "It's not like you knew him that well. And how did he even get hurt anyways?"

I was concentrating on the task at hand, but I decided to humour her question. It gave me something else to focus on other than blood. God, how I hated blood.

I told her my story. About the car crash, Steve finding me in the wreckage and our run in with the religious nutcases. I tried to skip on some stuff, like that fact that I may have killed another man. I didn't want to think about it. It was hard enough convincing myself that it was necessary without it being brought up again. Becca stayed silent throughout the story.

"You were in a car crash, huh?" she commented. I gave an affirmative grunt in return. "I guess that's where you got that gash from."

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Huh? Where?"

She pointed to my forehead, close to the hairline. My hand instantly shot up to it, trying to find this mystery injury. I felt a long and narrow cut, extending a few centimeters just under my hairline. The spot around it was crusted with dried blood that covered the right side of my face. I only felt pain in it when I started prodding it with my finger.

"Well, I'll be damned," I muttered. How I didn't notice that was beyond me. I wasn't exactly good at sucking up pain like others. The fact that I completely ignored this injury filled me with a sort of pride.

I wasn't as big of a wuss as people thought I was. Suck it, naysayers.

Looking back at Becca, I knew I would have to wait. A mangled leg took priority over a small head wound. I took a third piece of bandage and soaked it in disinfectant. Becca squirmed a little. She knew what was coming as much as I knew.

"This probably gonna hurt a lot," I told her again.

She bit her lip. "I know. Just... just make it quick."

I squeezed the bandage over the first bite, the largest one that went down to the bone. It was right above the shin, so it wasn't very deep, but it probably hurt like hell. Disinfectant leaked through the cloth and dropped into the long gash. Becca's leg tensed, trying to flex away from pain, but my hand kept it sturdy. I flinched as the girl let out a soft sob. I apologized out of reflex.

"No, no it's okay," she said in a strained voice. Her face was beaded with sweat. "Thanks for doing this, anyways. For helping me out and stuff. I don't even know who you are. Hell, I don't even know your last name."

"It's Thompson. Leander Thompson," I told her with a faint smile. "And it's nothing. Just returning the favour. You did save my ass after all."

She smiled and laughed a bit. "Yeah, I did."

I grinned widely also. It was a stressful day, and a lot of bad things happened to say the least. Having a reason to smile felt good. Eased some of the stress that was building. It made cleaning the bite marks easier to know that Becca still had the strength to smile.

I couldn't believe that she had the guts to stand up to the Mightyena by herself. I was just a stranger to her, yet she helped me out. Did I have the courage to do that? I would say yes, since I did the same for Steve, but he'd helped me just minutes before. If it was a full blown stranger, would I have helped? As that question lingered in my mind unanswered, another one popped up.

What exactly was Becca doing in the pharmacy in the first place? She was alone, apparently only twelve years old and could barely defend herself. Sure, I almost fit the same description, but I had a reason to go out there. To help Steve. What was her reason?

I asked her this as I bandaged her leg. I'd already covered each individual wound and next was to wrap the entire calf up. As soon as the question came out, Becca's smile vanished, replaced by a grimace. She quickly covered up the change, but it didn't go unnoticed.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked her. Her leg was finally done being bandaged, and I reverted back into a crouch to inspect my handiwork. However, she immediately tucked her legs into her chest, burying her face out of view.

Yeah, something was definitely wrong.

I waited a minute to see if she would tell me by herself. She remained silent, so I tried to ask her again, to get a response from her. I barely got a word out before she cut me off.

"Lee, I don't... I don't wanna... I can't..." Her voice trembled and she took her head out from between her knees. In the dim gloom of the DS, I could see her eyes watering. Though her voice was quiet, she finally found her words. "I don't want you to get hurt, Lee. After all you've done, I can't – I won't let you do this. It's not right. It wouldn't be fair."

"What is it."

What I said wasn't a question. It was a demand.

Becca looked me in the eyes and saw my resolve. Without a word, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small box. I couldn't make out the print on the box, but it reminded me of the syringe of morphine I found in the pharmacy. Was that what it was?

"It's insulin," Becca said quietly, as if reading my thoughts. "My mom's diabetic, and she's got a bad leg. She missed her shot recently, but we didn't have any more around the apartment. She _really _needs her shot. That's why I needed to get it for her. Because she couldn't get it herself."

I stared dumbly at the box. Becca risked her life for her mom, and then again for me. This girl was brave to say the least. She had someone that needed help and she stood up to the task. Now she couldn't complete it, and her mom still needed it badly. I knew what had to be done.

The insulin was out of her hands before she could react.

"What are you doing? Give it back!" she protested. I slipped the box into my jacket. She tried to get up, but I forced her back down.

"Your mom needs this shot. You told me yourself," I reminded her, silencing her complaints. "You are in no condition to give it to her. But I am."

"You can't do this, Lee. Please, don't do this!"

"What about your mom? What happens to her if she doesn't-"

"It's too risky out there! I can't let you do this! You could... you could die, for Christ's sake!"

"Becca, whether you like it or not, I'm doing this," I crouched down so I was face to face with her. She was tensed up. If it wasn't for her bad leg, I'm pretty sure she would have tried to tackle me to prevent me from going. "Tell me where you live, and I'll give your mom her shot, okay?

Becca tried to stand, but once again failed. Her face pleaded with me. "Please, Lee, don't do this. I don't want you to die."

"Becca..." That prompt was all that was needed. She sagged against the wall in defeat, a single tear rolling down her cheek. I tried to ignore the tightness in my chest at her reaction. She mumbled something I couldn't quite make out. I asked her to say it again and she repeated her address, adding directions to get there from the pharmacy.

I went over the instructions again, both out loud and in my head, to memorize them. I felt fairly confident that I would be able to make it there and back with a half hour.

"Take care of Steve for me, will you?" I asked her as I searched for the bat. I was heading out on what was essentially a suicide mission, after all. I would need a weapon.

"I don't think I can do much for him," Becca said sullenly.

I stood up from under a counter and looked over at the unconscious Totodile. Steve rested peacefully under the whitish-blue of the DS. The bandage had yet to be stained red, which I took as a good sign.

"Just... make sure he doesn't die," I finally said.

"And if he does?"

I stopped as my mind raced with scenarios. I blocked them out. Didn't want to distract myself. The bleeding stopped and he was alive. Steve was going to be fine. "Hopefully it won't come to that."

I found the bat nestled under a sink in the far corner. Its polished surface was coated with a fine layer of blood, making the wood sticky. It wasn't much of weapon, but it would do. At least it was better than a frying pan.

"When you hear me banging on the door, open it," I told Becca when I reached the exit. "If you have even the slightest suspicion that it's not me, don't open this for anyone. Got it?"

Becca gave a wordless nod and I rested my hands against the metal.

I couldn't believe that I was doing this again. Risking my life for someone I hardly knew. It was safe here. There was food, shelter. Steve wasn't at risk of bleeding out.

But it was the right thing to do, and I'd been raised to always try to do that. That didn't mean it made this any easier. I pressed my hands against the bar to open the door.

"Lee?"

I stopped applying pressure instantly and turned around. It was Becca who spoke.

"What?" I asked when she didn't continue.

"Be safe out there, okay? Please, don't do anything stupid." Her voice was choked with emotion but carried some serious weight. "Promise me that... that you won't die. Please."

_Never make a girl a promise you can't keep._ A cheesy line from a video game, sure, but none the less true. How could I promise her that, when even I was unsure of what I was doing? How could I promise anyone that?

"I'll be fine," I said anyways. The door opened without a sound as I stepped out into the night.

"I promise."


	8. Around Every Corner

I wish I could say that things went smoothly when I left the Tim Horton's. That I was able to walk to the apartment and back without much trouble. That Becca's mom would be waiting on a chair, perfectly understanding why I had come instead of her youngest daughter. It would have made my life so much easier.

Naturally, none of that happened. Things pretty much went to shit right off the bat.

As soon as I left the kitchen, I noticed some movement to the left of me. I hoped it was a human. Preferably a sane one. Even in the gloom, I could tell that that wasn't the case.

What was at the end of the alley was far too small, barely even two feet. And it was purple, with a large horn sticking out of its head and two big ears on the side. And it stood on four legs.

Yeah, certainly not a human.

The door to my side slammed shut. The figure at the end of the alley turned to me and snarled, slowly approaching me. I stumbled backwards away from it before bringing my bat up in front of me.

"Stay back," I warned, trying to sound tough. My voice shook and cracked, so that failed. "I will... I will hurt you."

It didn't respond to my weak threats. Honestly, I wouldn't have either.

The beast stepped forward into the faint light of the streetlights behind me and I got a better look at it. Thanks to video games, I was able to pick out what it was. The Pokémon glaring at me was a Nidorino. Only something was... off.

Foam trickled from between its sharp fangs, running down its jaw and pooling on the ground. Its purple hide was faded, making it look sick.

Nothing could compare to its eyes, though. The other Pokémon I'd seen all had some trace of intelligence in their eyes. Steve's had a glint of humour. The Mightyena had a mix of glee and excitement as they stared me down. This Nidorino's eyes were simply a blend of hunger and rage.

"What the hell?" I muttered. My bat lowered as I processed this. Bad move.

The Nidorino howled loudly. Spittle splattered everywhere. The sound was so horrible that I flinched and tried to cover my ears. With my guard lowered, the quadruped lunged at me. My fight-or-flight instincts kicked in. I, being the sissy I am, chose the second option.

I spun around, immediately tripping on my shoes and falling. I scrambled to my feet and ran full tilt down the alley, the Nidorino in hot pursuit. I cleared the buildings, vaulting over a crashed car that blocked the exit.

I landed on the other side running, propelling myself across the asphalt. The Nidorino jumped on the hood of the car and watched me for a second before chasing after me again. I spun around another stalled car, but the Pokémon just ran underneath it.

This thing wasn't going to give up. How come everything wanted to eat me so badly? I needed to find a way to lose it, or maybe find a way to stop it forcefully. That idea didn't appeal to me. Let's just say that I didn't find my chances of beating that thing into submission very high. Running seemed like the better option by a long shot.

And run I did.

I dodged around another car and turned the corner. I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going. Anywhere away from that beast chasing me was good enough. I ducked into another alley, risking a glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, it was still right behind me.

I chose a corner at random, nearly tripping over a half eaten body. As pleasant as a sight as it was, I didn't stop to look. I twisted and turned through side streets and alleys, the Nidorino gradually falling farther behind. I couldn't keep up this pace, though. My legs burned and my lungs begged for air. This had to end. Now.

Halfway down a random alley, I stopped and turned around to confront my attacker. I panted, blurring my vision with puffs of white clouds. Despite the bitter cold and inadequate protection, I was sweating buckets. My hands shook as I brought the bat up in front of me. I spread my feet apart to give me better stability. I was ready for this thing.

The Nidorino finally entered the alley. Thinking I was cornered or exhausted, it slowed to a trot, careful not to make any mistakes. White froth practically poured from the thing's mouth. A thick purple liquid oozed from its wicked horn. It snarled and sped up its advancement.

"Bring it on, you purple rat!" I yelled, prepping myself up. "Come on! I'll bash your stupid head in!"

Mid-charge, the Nidorino skidded to a halt. It looked up at me, frozen in the spot, before quickly running out the way it came.

I watched in amazement as the Pokémon fled around the corner and out of sight. Was that seriously all it took to get it to stop chasing me? I should have done that way earlier.

"Yeah, you better run!" I shouted after it for good measure. A laugh of pure relief escaped me. I couldn't believe my luck. I leaned forward against my bat and took a well earned breather.

A loud snort came from behind me, ruffling my hair. I froze. I even stopped breathing for a little. Very slowly, I turned around and found myself staring into a mass of grey plates. I followed them up to a silvery skull with two massive spikes protruding from the top and another on its front pointing at my face.

Or that's what I thought it was at first. No, the skull happened to be the helmet of a monstrous, seven-foot Aggron, if my Pokémon knowledge was correct. It stood on two legs, glaring down at me with cruel, blue eyes, its arms ready to snatch me up.

I took a tentative step back. The Aggron watched me, its eyes narrowing. Just like the Nidorino, they were full of hatred and hunger. The fear emanating from the beast was only amplified by the white foam dripping between the rows of pointed teeth.

The Aggron roared, a concussive blast of air knocking me backwards. Saliva splattered across my face. That jolted my legs from their fear-induced paralysis. I wasn't even thinking about fighting. Before its roar even ended, I was sprinting for the other end of the building.

I stumbled as the ground shook with the force of an earthquake. The Aggron had fallen to all fours and was chasing after me. Running from a Nidorino was scary enough. An Aggron, though? That was pretty much a tank chasing after me. A really fast tank with horns that would easily impale me and claws that could rip me in two. I didn't really need much more motivation.

The end of the alley was blocked by a heavy looking SUV. Needless to say, jumping over it was out of the question. I cut to the right to avoid plowing into one of its doors.

The Aggron didn't care much for the bulky vehicle. It rammed into the car's side, tossing the SUV across the street and through a building's front windows.

Great. Not only was it fast, but it could toss trucks like toys. I really couldn't believe my luck today.

I continued running while the Aggron had to slow down and readjust its angle towards me. At least it couldn't turn well. That wasn't enough to get me to stop, though.

I slid over the hood of a car that was too high to jump over and turned onto another street that was congested with stalled or crashed cars. It must have been rush hour. People who would be trying to get home to their families would've been operating these. Now they were gone. Or worse.

The Aggron flipped the car a second after I slid over it. It tried to slow down and turn, but ended up sliding into an eighteen-wheeler. The screech of metal on metal filled the air as it plowed right through the trailer.

I stopped and watched, hoping that it would be stuck. That it managed to wedge itself in the wreckage. My heart fell when I heard it roar again and tear apart the metal with its bare hands. It laid its eyes on me and tore through the remainder of the trailer, getting ready to charge again.

A mixture of fear and adrenaline propelled me through the traffic jam as the Aggron resumed the chase. I jumped, spun, slid and ducked around the cars. The beast behind me just ran though them.

I knew I couldn't keep doing this much longer. Manoeuvring through these cars was just tiring me out and slowing me down. The Aggron could just toss the obstacles out of the way without any effort. With the Nidorino, I at least had a chance if it came to hand to hand combat. That wasn't the case with the beast of a Pokémon right behind me. I needed a way to outrun this thing, to dodge around it. Maybe if I could get it to stop, I could pull ahead and lose it.

There was a narrow alley just up ahead to my right. The Aggron couldn't turn well, and the building was solid brick. It would definitely have to slow down to make it in.

I made a beeline for it, vaulting over a Civic. A car soared by me and smashed into a station wagon only a few metres away. I jumped, grabbing a streetlight as I did. My arm strained under the force, but held the weight as I spiraled around the pole. I let go and flew into the alley, almost crashing into the ground upon landing.

With no time to spare, I forced my protesting legs to go faster. The alley extended a few dozen feet before ending in a 'T' shape. I just needed to be out of these buildings and I stood a chance.

The wall behind me exploded into rubble. Apparently, the Aggron didn't care for walls. It just crashed right through it. The Pokémon shook its head after the collision to clear the debris and continued its pursuit. I turned left at the 'T', knowing full well I didn't stand a chance in hell of outrunning it.

As I sprinted, I nearly missed the features of the walls next to me. To my left, there was an emergency exit. It had a little groove carved out for the door, just enough to obscure someone from sight.

I took the chance and stopped running, pressing my back against the cold metal door. The building trembled as the Aggron broke through the wall again. The tremors in the ground became increasingly more violent as the beast rumbled through it.

I pressed myself as far back as I could as the Aggron charged by me like a locomotive. My heart stopped as I watched its massive bulk run right by without so much of a glance to its side. There was a sound of crunching metal as the Aggron smashed through the street at the end of the alley. The noise faded as the Pokémon continued its rampage, apparently unaware that I was no longer in front of it.

I slid down the wall, finally allowing myself to breathe. I felt like throwing up. If it wasn't happening at that moment, I would never believe that any heart could beat as fast as mine was going. That sprint was infinitely more stressful than the times Chopper had chased me.

I laughed despite my tiredness. It'd been, what, a day since the last time I saw that dog? It felt like years ago. I would take a date with Chopper over this hellish nightmare any day.

After getting a few minutes of rest, I finally decided to resume the trek to Becca's apartment. I couldn't wait any longer. Her mom needed the insulin. Plus, the longer I was out in the city, the bigger the risk of running into another pissed off Pokémon.

I retraced my steps back down the alley and onto the road. The path the Aggron took was clear from the line of clear space through the traffic jam.

I checked both sides of the street, not just for Pokémon, but for landmarks also. A chill ran up my spine at what I saw, and it had nothing to do with the cold.

I didn't recognize any of the buildings. And after going through my memory of the chase, I realized I had no idea which route I took. I was too busy trying not to get impaled that I didn't register any of the numerous twists and turns.

My heart jumped into my throat. I tried to calm myself down, taking deep breaths to slow my heart rate. This wasn't a problem. All I needed to do was find a road sign to figure out the street I was on and from there I could trace my way back to the pharmacy. No biggie.

I crept to the end of the street. The post holding the sign had been knocked over into a twisted heap. I used the bat as a lever to wrench the sign from underneath the bent pole. The blood in my veins turned to ice as I read it.

I didn't recognize this street, let alone this intersection, at all. I'd never been to the part of the city. No amount of planning or smarts was going to help me out here. I had no idea how to get to the pharmacy. No idea how to get to Becca's apartment. No idea how to get back to Steve.

I was alone, lost in a dark city that was full of things that wanted to kill me. This night couldn't possibly get worse.

And that's when I heard the gunshot.


	9. Last Gift and a Final Wish

I hit the concrete as soon as I heard the sound. I scuttled over to a car and put my back to the direction of the noise, gripping my bat for comfort. Even in my exhausted state I could tell that it was a gunshot. Personal experience sure is handy.

Who the hell was that? Could it have been the crazy religious nut? I didn't doubt that he had a stash of guns and followers somewhere, ready to cleanse the world of demons. Even if it wasn't him, it could be some other psycho with a gun. Or maybe a trick by some clever Pokémon. I couldn't tell which one it was.

But the scream that followed was definitely human. And definitely in a great deal of pain. It was coming from behind me for sure, down the opposite path I choose in the alley. I bet that whoever needed help was on that street, just beyond my line of sight.

I smacked my head against the car's door. I had to stop doing that. Not the head smacking thing. The whole running-off-to-save-people-I-didn't-know thing is what was turning into a bad habit.

How many times had I almost died trying to help people I barely knew? Way too many times. First for Steve, then for Becca's mom. And now, for what? Some random guy shouting in pain? It's like I was trying to get myself killed.

The person screamed again. It wasn't high enough to be a woman, or a girl. It had to be a man. A man in terrible pain who really, _really_ needed help. There was another gunshot, but his shouts didn't stop. It sounded like he was fighting, and losing.

"No, no, no, no," I said, punctuating each 'no' with a bang against the door. I couldn't help everyone. I had to look after myself, now more than ever.

The sounds of the fight increased in intensity. Then a shriek, the most horrible one yet, pierced the night. The unknown man must have suffered something awful. I couldn't take it anymore.

"Goddamn it," I muttered as I stood up. My legs ached and my heart still beat like it threatened to burst, but I found the energy to stand.

Bat at the ready, I ducked from around from behind the car. The street I was on was still clear of Pokémon. I inched along the buildings to my left, checking down the alley I ran through before. It was empty, but it was good to make sure. I didn't want to be taken by surprise.

I reached the end of the building and poked my head around the corner, searching for the source of the sound. The street was wrecked, just like every other one I'd seen, but at least this one didn't have as many cars choking it. After a few seconds, I noticed that the sound seemed to be coming from behind a crashed police cruiser that had its front end smashed into a solid wall. I couldn't see whoever was calling for help, so I couldn't tell if it was a trick.

Nothing was ever easy for me, was it?

Checking both ways, I crept out from my hiding spot. The street was deserted, but I didn't want to take any chances.

I dodged between the cars, slowly making my way to the police cruiser. The fight sounded real. With all the snarls and grunts and occasional _thwack_ for a punch being thrown, it was hard to imagine that it was faked. Then again, this world was just full of surprises.

Once I got to the police cruiser, I took a glance through one of its windows. The glass was tinted and cracked, and it was dark, so I could only make out the shadows of two wrestling figures. The smaller one was on top, barely being held off by the one on the bottom.

Okay, I could do this. They didn't know I was here. I could sneak up from behind and get a good whack on the thing attacking the man. And if it did turn out to be trap, well, running was always an option.

I took a few breaths to calm myself. Feeling a shred of confidence come to me, I started a countdown in my head. Counting down helped block my brain from trying to tell me to get the hell away from here.

On three, I jumped out from behind the car screaming. My war cry died in my throat, my bat stopping mid-swing as I froze to the spot.

So did the Sneasel in front of me.

Its blue-black fur was matted and damp, giving the Pokémon a ragged look. Its claws dripped with blood, pooling on the pavement. And, naturally, white foam trickled from its mouth and hatred burned in its eyes.

Three of these Pokémon in less than an hour. That must have been a world record for bad luck.

Whatever bit of bravery I had vaporized at the sight. I took a step back, planning on sprinting again. I didn't care how tired my legs were. They were getting me the hell away from this place.

The Sneasel was waiting for me to make the first move. As soon as it saw me start to retreat, it lunged at my throat.

My arms were too slow to react. The bat didn't move in time to block those lethal claws. I thought my death was certain. I stared into the feral eyes of death, and I couldn't do anything to prevent it.

The Sneasel's claws were millimetres from my throat when its head split open in an explosion of blood and gore. I registered a loud crack a moment later as something extremely small whizzed by my head. The Pokémon's limp body rammed into mine, driving me onto the truck of the police cruiser.

"Jesus..." I mumbled, pushing the dead body off me. It landed on the ground with a wet splat. The top left of its head was blown to pieces, the remnants splattered everywhere. The pink feather, or whatever was on its head, lay on the ground in a small pool of blood.

Bile rose in my throat. It was a disgusting sight. I didn't want to think how close those claws came to sinking into my neck and ending my life.

"You okay, kid?" a faint, pained voice said. "It didn't get you, did it?"

I tore my eyes from the body to a man with a mess of black hair sitting against the wall. A smoking pistol was held in his hand. The man was wedged in the corner of the building and the crashed cruiser, which explained why I couldn't see him earlier. He was dressed in the classic navy blue of the police force. A dark stain covered his entire abdomen, stemming from a massive gash in his shirt.

"No, it missed. Thanks," I said breathlessly, taking another glance at the body, before returning my gaze to the officer. I eyed the stain nervously. "You good yourself? You gut looks pretty messed up."

"Just a flesh wound," the officer said. He chuckled, which shortly turned into a violent fit of coughing a second later.

I rushed over to see if was alright. I propped him up with my arm against his back, taking a quick glance at his stomach to see the extent of injury. I threw up a little in my mouth.

'Flesh wound' my ass. A gash split the officer's abdomen nearly in two, giving me a very nice view of his insides. And by nice, I mean thoroughly not. His stomach looked like the Sneasel tried to make the officer's intestines into its new length of yarn.

"Damn beast," the officer muttered. "Got the jump on me. Couldn't reach my gun on time. All I had was a baton, and that didn't do much against those claws."

"I am so sorry," I said, crouching in front of him. "If I'd gotten here fast, I- I could've..."

"Could've what?" the officer chuckled. Like the last time, it quickly turned into a pained cough. "Bashed that thing's brains in? Kid, you would've ended up just like me here."

I looked back down at his exposed insides and agreed with him. I'd prefer to keep my guts in my stomach and not out.

"Is there anything I could do?" I asked. "Like, maybe I could bandage it up, or help you somewhere safe. I dunno, anything."

"What's your name, kid?" the officer said. His voice was getting weaker. Severe pain and blood loss was sapping his strength. I told him it quickly. "Leander, eh? Mine's Aaron."

He offered me his hand and I shook it, trying to ignore the blood. Officer Aaron continued, "Listen, Leander, unless you're some genius doctor with a handy bag of surgical supplies, I'm not making it. I know that. And by the look in your eyes, you know that, too."

"I know, I know, but... you saved my life," I said, fighting back tears. "I gotta do something. I can't just leave you."

"When I joined the Force, I made an oath to protect the citizens of this city," Aaron told me. His voice may have been weakened by pain, but the strength and courage of the officer was as prominent as ever. "By God, I lived out that oath to the very end. And I intend on keeping that up as long as possible. So I need you to do something for me, okay?"

I nodded wordlessly. He raised a shaky hand to the police cruiser. "There's a shotgun in the trunk. I want you to take it."

"Wha... but-but I don't know how to use a gun," I protested instantly. "I've only used them in video games, not in real life."

"Leander, just take the gun. Please," Aaron said. Grimacing, he pulled out a pair of keys.

I wanted to reject it, but I bit my tongue. Standing up, I walked to the trunk and put the keys in the hole. With a quick rotation, the trunk popped open. A metre of polished metal and wood greeted me. For something that was designed to take lives, the creators did a brilliant a job at making it look beautiful.

I took the gun and went back to the officer. Aaron's eyes were half closed, but he managed a smile when he saw what was in my hands.

"Good. That should... that should protect you better than a baseball bat," he said.

"At least I know how to use a bat," I said, looking sullenly at the shotgun.

"Not that hard to learn. Just aim, watch for recoil, and pull the trigger. There's a box of shells in the glove compartment. You're going to need more than just two shots."

Aaron doubled over and coughed again. He clutched his gash in pain. When he recovered, he barely sat up as straight as before. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He didn't have much time left.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do?" I asked desperately. What was with me and wanting to help people I didn't know?

Aaron closed his eyes and went silent. For a while, I thought he was dead.

"Actually, you can," he said. His hand fumbled with the breast pocket of his uniform. It was hard to watch someone struggle with such an easy task, but he eventually got it open and pulled out a small piece of paper. He showed me it.

It was a picture of a happy family of three. The man I recognized as Aaron. The other two must have been his wife and young son. His son looked just like him, right down to the messy black hair.

"My family... needs to know," he mumbled, staring into the faces of picture. He swallowed heavily. "If you ever find them, please tell them what happened to me. What I did. And tell them I loved them to the very end. Please?"

"I promise," I found myself saying. That would be the second time I promised something I couldn't possibly hope to think I could keep. The chance of finding this man's family was slim to none. I had to try, though. It was the least I could do.

"Good, good," he muttered and swallowed heavily. He held out the photo. "Take it. So you know what they look like. I ain't taking no for an answer."

I accepted the photo and put in my sweatpants' pocket.

Something clattered along the end of the street. Aaron and I both looked towards it. The sound had come from our exposed side.

Then I heard the voices. Boisterous, loud, jaunty. Pretty much every adjective that wouldn't describe a human in this world, meaning that whoever was speaking wasn't human.

Suddenly, even the shotgun didn't feel like enough to protect me. I looked at Aaron. He knew what - or more exact, who – was behind that corner. His expression steeled.

"It's time to go, Leander," he said, fixing me with a determined stare. How he kept that on despite the pain baffled me. "I'll take care of them, give you some time."

I didn't need to ask how. The officer lifted his pistol with unsteady hands and trained it on the corner. No matter what, Officer Aaron was going out with a bang.

"I'm sorry," I said once more. I didn't back away just yet though. "I really wish there was more that I could do. I really do."

Aaron gave me a sideways look, never moving his head. "I know. I saw that the first time I looked into your eyes. You're scared, but you are one brave son of a bitch. Now get going, Leander. Time's a wasting."

I nodded and sprinted around the car, shotgun in one hand and bat in the other. I made it a few metres before quickly rushing back to the passenger side of the cruiser. Prying the door open, I opened the glove box. A box of shotgun shells lay there just as promised. I shoved those in my pocket also.

The voices were closer now. My window of time was rapidly diminishing. I took one last glance at the officer.

He stared along the building, ready to give his life for a civilian. Did I have what it took to make that sacrifice? God, I hoped I never had to find out. Because I sure as hell didn't have the courage then.

I turned and ran for the nearest alley.


	10. Losing Your Head

This is what Aaron wanted. He told me to go. He told me to save myself. That he was willing to lay his life down for mine. Running meant I got to live, to help others.

I told myself this as I sprinted along the building, trying to justify my actions. It made me feel a little better. Only it didn't help stop the tears. Or the voice inside my head that called me a coward.

I ran from alley to alley, clearing congested and wrecked roads without so much as a thought to where I was going.

After three or four blocks, I stopped. My stamina was shot from being chased earlier. I really should have worked out more often. Scratch that – I should have worked out in general.

Gunshots rang out from the city from where I just came. Aaron's last stand had begun. I counted the shots as they came. Six in total before the screams started. One last shot was heard and the screams stopped.

I wiped a tear from my eye and continued down the road. I was still lost. Nothing had changed about that. I had no idea how to get to Becca's. How to get to the Tim Horton's. Hell, I didn't even remember how to get back to the police cruiser.

I was a goddamn mess.

I stumbled along the street. I figured at that point, I couldn't get more lost. Every street seemed the same to me; stalled cars, burned out streetlights, trashed buildings. Everything a wreck. It was so uplifting.

I turned the corner and froze. No way could I be that unlucky.

A group of Pokémon advanced down the street. These were the sane kind. I could tell. They talked to each other. I couldn't make out any words, but that was definite chatter I was hearing. And they all moved with a purpose. Also the fact that they didn't have foam dripping from their mouths was kind of a giveaway.

I hid behind the wall. They were too busy checking their sides that they missed me. I looked around for a place to hide. Cars would only go so far. If they checked inside, which they apparently did, then I was screwed. My eyes fell on the alley across the street. Those always served well in the past.

I sprinted for the other side of the street, my legs already protesting from their overuse. I didn't stop running until I reached the next street over. I skidded to a halt at the end.

"You've gotta be kidding me," I muttered. I guess I really shouldn't have been surprised at that point. It did rush off into the streets on a rampage. What did I expect it to do? Just vanish into thin air? I did not have the luck for that.

Sure enough, there was my old friend, the Aggron. It tore through the hood of a sedan, rummaging around inside of it for a tasty treat. A treat that was almost me. I didn't hear any screams from inside, which was fortunate. No one had been caught by it. Yet.

Apparently, the Aggron couldn't find anything to munch on in the car, and moved on to the next one. It ripped off the side of a truck and started sniffing inside that too. While it was distracted, I causally slipped back into the alley and out of sight.

Now I was stuck in between a rock and a hard place. A group of sane Pokémon who would most likely eat me on one side of the alley, and a Pokémon that just tried to eat me on the other.

I searched the alley. The voices of the Pokémon were getting louder, as were the sounds of metal being shredded. It was only a matter of time before one of them found me.

There was a little cranny in the wall. Hey, if it worked against the Aggron once, who says it couldn't work again?

I pressed my back up against the wall, and something pushing into my spine. I felt the behind me to see what it was, and wrapped my hands around a doorknob. Not wasting any time, I twisted it and fell ass-first into the building. The door slammed shut behind me.

I laughed in relief. Just what I needed for once. I started to push myself up when something jabbed me at the base of my neck. Not a gun. Something sharper this time. A blade. I could feel it digging into my skin even through all the layers of clothes.

"Not so fast, kid," said a shaky, slightly high, voice. I couldn't tell why it was shaky. Fear? Nervousness? Anxiety? Who knew? "You're in my sanctuary without my permission. No one comes in here without my permission."

"I-I-I'm sorry," I stuttered. It was hard to keep my voice even with a blade in my neck. "I just- I was just, you know, p-passing through."

"Stand up. And drop your weapons," the unknown man said. When I hesitated, he dug the blade deeper. "I said, stand up and drop your weapons."

That time I complied. I stood and let my bat and shotgun fall to the ground. He scooped them up, just barely staying out of my sight.

"Stick your hands out behind your back," he ordered next. I did, and he wrapped something sticky and tough around my hands. Duct tape, most likely. He made it as tight as possible, eliminating any chance of me removing it by myself.

"C'mon, man. Why are you doing this?" I asked, my voice quivering. "Just... let me go. I won't tell anyone about your sanctuary."

He pulled on my taped hands, jerking me closer to him. "Why would I want you to leave? I want to show you something. Something very... important. But it's a surprise."

_Oh, dear lord, please don't let it be what I think it is_, I thought as he spun me around. I would rather take my chances outside than with this nutjob.

I finally got a good look at the room I had fallen into. It was lit by candles, but devoid of any furniture. It was just a barren room, the walls too dark to tell what colour they were. That somehow freaked me out more than if it was regularly furnished. This guy went through the trouble of making this room as empty as possible and that just made me even more uneasy.

He pushed me forward, towards an open door. The door led into an eerie, candlelit corridor, making it as inviting as the room I had fallen into.

My knees quivered so bad that I thought it would be impossible for me to walk with them. The blade digging into my neck served as enough reason to get moving. I walked through the door and corridor as slowly as possible. I wanted to avoid seeing his surprise as much as possible.

"Can't you just tell me what this surprise is?" I asked, keeping my stutter at bay. "The suspense is killing me."

"Oh, I'm sure it won't be the suspense that kills you," the man laughed. Well, it was more of a cackle in my opinion because a chill shot up my spine. "But, no. Words won't do this surprise any justice."

"Not even a little hint?"

"Hmm... put it this way. It's a... collection."

A collection? That didn't sound so bad. Maybe this guy collected stamps or hockey cards, and just really loved to show them off. Just a harmless, little collection.

Why didn't I believe that?

The hall I was being led down ended in another door, this one also open. I could see the room behind it was very large, probably the lobby of an office, or a hotel. More candles lit the room, but just like the one before, it seemed to be devoid of furniture.

"Keep going," the man prompted. "My collection is right on the other side. I can't wait for it to grow larger."

He pushed me through the doorway and into the main room. Muffled shouts came from my left, gaining my attention instantly. I turned to them and froze, not due to fear, but confusion.

Humans and Pokémon alike were bound and gagged along the wall, with the exception of the glass doors, which were barricaded from the outside by a city bus. I didn't get an exact number, but there were more Pokémon than humans.

"Is this your collection?" I asked quietly, still confused.

"They will be part of it soon enough," the man said. "You're looking the wrong way, though."

Before I could fully understand what he said, he grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. This time I froze in fear.

"Wh-whu...buh...huh... wh-what...?" I sputtered. My mouth couldn't form the words. The part of the brain responsible for speech was preoccupied with trying to rationalize what I was seeing.

"I told you words couldn't describe it," the man said with unsuppressed glee. "Isn't it wonderful? My pride and joy."

Along the reception desk was a row of severed heads, fresh from the bodies. Men, women, Pokémon, even a mannequin head stared back at me with lifeless eyes. All were frozen in a state of pure horror.

"Why?" I finally managed. "Why would you do this?"

"Because I'm a collector," the man stated simply, like he was telling me the weather. "I used to collect meaningless things before the Lights. But I was touched... given a more divine purpose. And I seek to fulfil my purpose, by making it larger. And you are just what I need for that to happen."

"How?" I asked, nearing tears. "What the hell can I do?"

"Oh, that's the easy part." He kicked me hard in the back of my legs, forcing me to my knees. The blade's edge pressed against my neck.

"Your head will join it."


	11. The Collector

I stared numbly ahead. Pain pulsed in my knee from the hard landing, but I barely felt it. My mind was still completely absorbed with what the man said. Then the understanding hit me full on in the face, sending pure fear through my entire body.

"NOOOO!" I screamed, flinging my elbow back into the Collector's leg, earning a small grunt of pain. My head was staying just where it was. No way was I letting this guy take it.

My left leg slid back and I tried to stand up and run for it. Before I could even get to my feet, though, a sharp pain erupted in the back of my head. Stars danced in my eyes and my knees buckled. My hands were tied behind my back, so I couldn't even stop myself as the ground rushed towards me.

I hit the floor face first. Some escape attempt that was. The man drove his knee into my spine, keeping me pinned and unable to move.

"Now, now. Don't go doing that," he cooed, in his ever present deranged voice. "You're the most important part of my collection. Here, maybe this will stop you from leaving."

The sound of tape being pulled and ripped filled the room as he bound my legs at the ankles. No more running for me, it seemed.

"P-please. Don't... don't k-kill me," I whimpered. Tears rolled down my face. "You c-can just-just let m-m-me g-go. Please, I don't w-want t-to die."

A finger pressed on my lips. "Shhhh. Calm down, child. You are a very special part of all this. I can't just let you go. Your death is a very unfortunate thing, of course, but cannot be avoided. I just need to prepare you before I do the deed, and then it will all be over soon enough."

Oh, God, what the hell did he mean by 'preparations?' If it was anything like his collection in front of me, then there was no way it could be good.

The man stood up and made his way behind the counter that displayed his collection. From my position on the floor, I finally got a glimpse of the Collector, but only from the back. His hair was long and greasy, spilling passed his shoulders and over a tattered vest. A dirty machete hung from a belt loop on his camouflage pants.

As soon as he disappeared behind the counter, I tried to free myself. I could barely move, and my limbs felt like dead weights. For some reason, all my movements were sluggish and weak. I couldn't even shift myself so my face wasn't buried in the floor.

The Collector reappeared and I stopped moving. Even though he was facing me, I couldn't tell what his face looked like. It was mostly covered by greasy locks of hair. The only feature visible was his mouth, which was contorted in a smile about as inviting as a shark's.

He stepped out and I noticed that he had brought something with him. In his free hand was a large, dark green bowl. It was filled to the brim with liquid. The man moved slowly to avoid spilling any of it, like it was the most precious thing ever. He placed it behind me so I couldn't tell its contents.

"It is time to begin," he said, hauling me back into a kneeling position. "You must be cleansed first, if you are to be the one that completes my collection." He picked up the bowl and stood behind me before continuing, "In order for your body to be purified, it must be washed, soaked in a divine liquid. Though it isn't a perfect substitute, the mix I have prepared from the others shall rinse away any impurities. Then you will be fit to be the final piece."

I barely had time to think about what he said because a second after he finished talking, the bowl tipped and its contents were poured on my head,

My brain was shocked into alertness, as if ice water had been splashed into my face. That came as no surprise. The only difference between the liquid and water was that the liquid was a bit thicker than and nowhere near as cold as the water. You could have even called it warm.

It pooled beneath me and I finally got a glimpse at what colour it was. In the dim candlelight, I could make out the liquid's dark crimson colour.

That didn't make sense. Why was he drenching me in red?

My gaze wandered up to the desk and its vile collection of heads. A sub-zero chill replaced any feeling from my toes to the tip of every hair as I suddenly realized what was pouring from the bowl, and where the Collector got it.

It was blood. Human and Pokémon blood, gathered from the bodies belonging to the dozen heads in front of me. It seeped through my clothes, coated my skin and soaked into my very bones. It ran down my face. My eyes were blinded by red, its metallic tang flooding my scent and taste.

I had just literally been baptized in blood.

"You are now pure, child," the Collector said. He dropped the empty bowl. I barely heard its hollow clang over the pounding of my heart. "The preparations are done. Now, the final step can be performed: the completion of my collection."

He pushed my head down, exposing my neck and forcing me to look at my knees. I could see my reflection in the calm surface of the pooling blood.

I knew what would come next. The machete would come down, severing my head. My lifeless body would pitch forward, my blood adding its contents to the pool.

I knew my fate. I knew I was going to die. Yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't do anything to prevent it. My body was locked in place by fear. All I could do was stare helplessly into the grisly mirror at my knees.

A scared boy stared back at me. Though covered in blood, the soul crushing despair was evident in his features. Above him, a ragged man held the boy's head down, while his free hand lifted a machete towards the ceiling.

As the blade reached its apex, a bright light started to fill the room. Maybe I was already seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, or maybe the Collector was about to unleash a great power with this act. Ozone replaced the smell of metal in my nostrils and the blade plunged downwards.

A brilliant flash filled the room, blinding me. A sharp crack, a cry of a pain and the clatter of metal reached my ears before my vision returned.

"You filthy rat!" the Collector roared. I could see him clutching his hand in the blood's reflection. He moved from my line of sight and I heard him strike something soft. Muffled grunts followed each hit. I snuck a glance back to see what was happening.

When I walked in, I never took a proper glance at the Collector's captives. Now, I could make out each one. There was a middle-aged man and young woman bound in the corner. They were the only humans. A Machop, Bagon, Taillow and Houndour were restrained in various ways, with the dog's legs hogtied and the bird's wings weighed down with chain. The fifth member was blocked from view, since it was taking a savage beating from the Collector.

"That will teach you to behave for the rest of your short, pathetic life," he spat, giving one last kick. I looked away so he couldn't tell I was watching. "Your heroics have only delayed the inevitable."

He made his way to the other side of the room, walking leisurely to the far corner. His machete lay there, its tip glowing faintly. That must have been the clang I heard after the flash. But what caused the machete to be flung across the room? And why was he taking so long to pick it up?

The second question wasn't that hard to figure out. I was bound, the captives subdued. He had all the time in the world to finish his collection.

At least, he thought that. He forgot that the scared boy whose head he was about to chop off wasn't planning on going down without a fight. Sure, my hands and legs were bound, but this was the only chance I was going to get. I had to make use of it and fast because he was already halfway to his murder weapon.

I searched the room for something I could use to my advantage. I found nothing at first. The Collector had done a good job at clearing the room of anything useful. The desk of heads was the only furniture and the machete was the only weapon.

Well, not the only one. I looked to my right and spotted my last chance at life.

My shotgun and bat, the weapons he took from me, were leaning against the doorway. If I could get to those, then I stood a chance. With my hands tied behind my back, that wasn't going to be an easy feat.

The Collector hissed in pain. I looked just in time to see him drop the burning hot machete. I was running out of time.

I flopped onto my side and struggled with the duct tape cuffs. When I was ten, I had watched a movie where someone had their hands tied behind their back and they were able to slide them underneath their legs. I had tried the same thing just to see if I could do it. With double jointed shoulders and a small body, I found the task easy to accomplish.

Now, with my hands bound at the wrist and not nearly as flexible or small as my younger self, I found it near impossible. My shoulders screamed in pain as they were pulled to their limits while my legs protested just as much from being forced to bend at unachievable angles. I was certain that something in my bad knee would tear from the strain.

Despite the pain, I pushed on. I felt my hands scrape pass my foot. My muscles relaxed and I let out a giant gasp of relief.

"Hey!"

My eyes snapped open at the harsh cry. The Collector glared at me from across the room, the glowing machete clasped firmly in his hand.

"What do you think you're doing?" he growled, eying my hands. I took one look at his weapon and started scooting across the floor as fast as I could. "No you don't!"

He stalked towards me, his legs clearing the gap much faster than I could scuttle away on my ass. My bad knee pulsed with pain, but I forced it just as much as the other one, trying to put as much distance between me and the psychopath. I struggled to gain traction through the blood, and he was on me in seconds.

Well... shit.

"This ends now," he sneered and raised his machete.

I rocked onto my back and unleashed a savage two foot kick at the man's leg. It struck his knee and it buckled sideways. The Collector wailed and fell, clutching his ruined knee. He let go of the machete and before I could avoid it, the flat of the blade dropped right on my shin.

One second there was nothing, the next the glowing metal was searing my skin through charred pants. The pain was so intense, so sudden, that it blocked out all rational thought. I screamed and thrashed my leg, sending the machete airborne, but its scorching touch remained.

I crawled back, trying to grasp my leg to ease some of the pain. The movement scooted me back a few feet. Even though my hands were bound, I was still able to touch the burn. I recoiled from the touch as fresh pain shot up my leg.

"You insolent worm!"

I looked up from my leg into the deranged eyes of the Collector. The blood had matted his hair back, revealing his deranged face, which was contorted in pain and anger. I'd rather have had it remain covered.

"You ruined everything!" he growled and lunged at me. I screamed and kicked at his face, smashing his nose with my sneaker soles. Fresh blood spouted from his nostrils and he fell back, giving me time to slither a few more meters away from him on the slick floor.

"It would have been done! I could have finished it!" he yelled, and started to inch himself towards me. I noticed his leg trailed behind him at an awkward angle.

I felt a pang of sympathy for him, seeing his injury. I knew how much a ruined knee hurt, and his looked far worse than mine had been.

"Why couldn't you just let me have your head?" he lunged at me again and I barely managed to jump out of the way. The feeling disappeared just as quickly as it came. It was hard to feel sorry for the guy who was actively trying to kill you.

"Get away from me, you crazy bastard!" I yelled and scooted back as fast as I could. The Collector was still dangerous, even with his busted knee.

I lost traction on the floor and fell, my chin pointing upwards. I gazed at my weapons across the room, just behind me. They were barely even a dozen meters from me. With my limbs bound, it might as well been miles.

With renewed vigour, I rolled onto my stomach and crawled for the wall. My leg burned and knee ached, but I pushed on. No amount of pain was going to stop me.

I risked a glance back at the Collector. He wasn't that far behind, even though he was only using his arms to move. Just seeing his face sent pure terror through me.

The wall was close, and my weapons closer. Not wanting to waste time, I lunged for them as best I could. My outstretched hands connected with both the bat and shotgun, but grasped onto neither. I watched helplessly as the bat rolled out of reach again.

The shotgun was my only choice now, a weapon I had never used before. I grabbed it by its stock as best I could and swung it around to point at the Collector.

He was much closer, and the gap between us got smaller by the second. Tears streaked his face, but his eyes still screamed murder.

"G-get back!" I ordered, choking on the words. "I'll shoot you!"

Looking down a barrel barely fazed the Collector. He continued without the slightest hesitation.

"You ruined everything," he blubbered. "I was so close. It was almost done."

"Stop, please! Just go away!" I pleaded. I backed up further, trying to push myself through the wall. "Why won't you just leave me alone?"

"All I needed was one more," he said quietly. His crawling had slowed, but he was only a few meters from my legs. He wasn't stopping. I knew that there was only one way to finish this.

I just didn't want to do it.

"Don't make me do it," I whimpered. I slid the stock under my armpit, my finger resting awkwardly on the trigger.

Just aim, watch for recoil, pull the trigger. That's what Officer Aaron said. It sounded so easy.

"I'll get it. Mark my words, I'll get it eventually," the Collector laughed.

Hands shaking, I lifted the gun. It was heavy, and keeping it aloft wasn't easy in my position.

_Aim. Watch for recoil. Pull the trigger._

"Please, just stop. I don't wanna do this. Please!" I said, hoping for once that this madman would listen to reason. Of course, it failed.

"I will end it. It will be complete!" the Collector roared and put on a fresh burst of speed. He was only a few feet away now. It was now or never.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, tears blurring my eyes. My hands tightened their grasp on the gun, preparing for what came next.

I aimed.

I watched for recoil.

And I pulled the trigger.


	12. Like a Putrid Watermelon

Six months ago, Steve, Jasmine and I all got together at my house. That wasn't an odd occurrence. We were always hanging out, so much so that my mom started calling us the three amigos.

This day was different though. We'd just finished Grade Eight, so we decided to celebrate on the first of July, better known here as Canada Day. As the sun set and festivities were about to begin, Jasmine mentioned something about being horribly revolted to finding a stinking watermelon in her fridge. Well, that random comment formed an idea instantly in my mind. An explosive one.

After much convincing, Jasmine reluctantly retrieved the rotting watermelon from her house. I used whatever money I managed to scrounge from around my house to buy a firecracker. And Steve, being the fiend he is, snuck a few beers from his parents' store. Within minutes, we all met in my backyard.

Since it was my idea, I was put in charge of setting it up. I hammered a hole in the skin and tried not to notice the putrid stench that drifted out, and plunged the firecracker deep into the fruity flesh. I was also in charge of lighting the fuse.

I retreated back with my friends to watch. We waited with bated breath as the fuse burned into the innards. Nothing happened. No boom. We assumed that the fuse was too wet to burn and got snuffed out. I was the only one crazy enough, or maybe stupid enough, to check it out. My friends giggling madly behind me, I approached the fruit cautiously.

That's when the night became really interesting.

Turns out, the fuse was still very much alight inside that watermelon. And it chose the perfect time to set off the firecracker – when I was a few feet away from it.

The bang was barely heard through the insulating fruit as the explosive detonated. The thick skin split and burst, green shards flying in all directions. And the softer flesh was liquefied, coating everything around it in a putrid red mist.

Being right next to it gave me the honour of getting a face full of the rotting fruit. Steve and Jasmine laughed hysterically at my surprised look and utter revulsion. I abruptly stopped that when I embraced them both in a massive bear hug.

All three of us may have reeked like bad vinegar, but that night turned extraordinarily awesome as our bang signalled others around the neighbourhood to launch their fireworks. As the night lit up with explosions of colours, I realized that the night might have been one of the best nights of my life. One which I think I'll never forget.

That memory surfaced after I pulled the trigger because of one reason. The Collector's head and the watermelon both had similar fates.

His head disintegrated in a messy explosion. Instead of green skin, shards of skull flew across the room. Brain and blood dissolved into a pink goop that splattered anything nearby, along with his hair and other unidentifiable bits of human anatomy.

In a fraction of a second, a man's life was ended and his head reduced to nothing more than a jagged bloody stump. A tube travelled down the center of the neck, leading to the stomach and lungs while a ring of bone showed where his spine once connected to a brain. The Collector's hand was frozen in his last attempt to grab me, stretching for my foot. Blood slowly pooled underneath him and crept along the tile towards me.

A wave of nausea washed over me and I emptied whatever was left in my stomach onto my lap. I nearly hurled again out of disgust of seeing the vomit sitting on my legs. I managed to repress the urge purely because it wasn't the nastiest thing in front of me.

Keeping my head averted from the body, I tried to stand up, using the wall as support. My feet weren't able to gain traction on the blood-slick floor. I couldn't stop myself from collapsing to the ground hard on my side and crying out from the pain that shot through my shoulder. I rolled onto my stomach, propping myself onto my elbows to stand up with my forehead resting on the ground.

I never got farther than that. A single tear escaped from between my eyelids and rolled down my face. A sob forced its way from my throat, leaving me choking.

I couldn't cry. Not here. I had more important things to do, and breaking down was not an option. It was just so damn tempting. I murdered someone. You can claim that it was self-defence, that the man was crazy and would have killed more innocent people, but that didn't erase the fact that I pulled the trigger to end a man's life.

Something rattled a few feet from my head, the sound of metal along the tile. I cracked open my eyes to see what made the noise. The point of a crimson tinged blade pointed towards me.

I pushed myself off my elbows to a sitting position, staring through bleary eyes at the murderous weapon. It lay there, alone on the tile, even though I saw it fly across the room. I looked around to see how it got there.

The Machop sat there expectantly, battered, bruised and covered in many cuts of all sizes. Its eyes flicked back and forth from me to the machete to its outstretched and bound hands. I understood what it was trying to tell me, even though its mouth was taped shut.

I eyed the leather grip nervously. I couldn't shake the uneasiness that came with seeing that weapon, as if it was the very embodiment of the Collector's evil.

Taking a deep breath, I snatched up the machete. It was an awkward hold, just like it was with the shotgun. At least the blade didn't have recoil. When I lowered it to the Pokémon's level, it shivered and looked away. Apparently it felt the same about the machete as I did.

I slid the machete across the duct tape that bound the Machop's wrists. The sharp edge cut effortlessly though the tape and it didn't take more than one stroke to free the Machop. Then on an afterthought, I cut its legs free too. I would have done the same for its head, but the tape was too tight to cut freely without risking a serious gash.

The fighting Pokémon grabbed the machete out of my hands while I was trying to think of a way to remove the tape. It was so sudden and unexpected, that I jumped back. What the hell was I thinking? I just freed a possibly murderous Pokémon and then gave it a weapon that could easily end my life.

The Machop tilted its head at my reaction, perplexed by my actions. When the truth sunk in, its eyes widened and shook its head, holding up its hands trying to show it was friendly. It then motioned to its wrists, mimicking sawing with the machete.

I stopped scuttling away, but didn't move any closer. I'd been tricked, chased and nearly killed too many times this night to afford to be trustful. I hung back, my muscles tensed to react the moment things went south.

Noticing my hesitation, the Machop rolled its eyes and started towards me. I panicked and tried to move farther backwards, but the Pokémon with its freed legs caught up to me in just a few strides. It grabbed my arms with a crushing grip, halting my escape, and raised the machete. I closed my eyes to block out the horror that was sure to follow.

Needless to say, when I didn't feel the blade slice through my skin but rather my arms falling in different directions I was quite surprised. Instead of cutting off my hands, the Machop cut through the tape binding my wrists. It proceeded to copy me and cut my legs free too.

I eyed the Pokémon, confused as to what just happened. My neck wasn't slit, and my hands and legs were free. Did I miss something?

The Machop face-palmed at my stupidity. It dropped the machete and struggled with the gag around its mouth. Its stubby hands prevented it from ripping the tape from around its head. Going nowhere, it gave up, slapping its palms against its thighs in frustration. With an angry glare, it pointed at its head and turned around.

I saw where the tape ended and took a stab at its message. A few tugs later and the tape tore free with a painful sounding rip.

"Jeez, took you long enough, mate!" she exclaimed, rubbing her gray face. Hearing her voice, I was even more confused. Hands on her hips, the Machop huffed. "Are you stupid or something? Why are you staring at me like an alien?"

"You're a girl," I said, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

Her eyes narrowed. "You got a problem with that?"

"No offence or anything," I said cautiously, "but I always assumed that Machop were all dudes."

"How does that even make the slightest bit of sense?" she demanded, crossing her arms. "Guys can't make babies with each other."

"I know that. It's just, your species are muscled and that's, you know, common... for, um, males and..." I cleared my throat as her glare became more intense, "and girls don't really e-ever have those. Big ones, I... I mean."

She just stared at me dumbfounded. "'Kay, y'know what? I'm not gonna smack you, 'cause I figure your brain is working a wee bit funny after blowing a guy's head off. How 'bout we move from here, yeah?"

"Gladly," I said and stood up. Pain shot from the burn on my right leg, nearly bringing me to the floor again. I pushed through it and hobbled across the room, leaving the body behind.

"What's your name, mate?" the Machop asked, picking at the remaining tape on her wrists. "Kinda curious to know who saved my rear. Mine's Miranda, in case you're wondering. It's the only thing I know for certain."

"I'm Leander, or Lee," I said instinctively. I rubbed my wrists that were also stuck in duct tape bindings. "You got amnesia too, eh? That seems to be something Pokémon all have alike. You really don't remember anything at all?"

"Besides my name? Nope," Miranda answered with a shrug. "Memory goes back only a few hours. Woke up, fought some loony Pokémon, then this machete wielding bloke charges in and knocks me out." She pointed to a large welt on her forehead. "Next thing I know, I'm tied and gagged in a dark room with this lot."

"That sucks."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Miranda sighed. She looked at me inquisitively. "How 'bout you? How did you end up here? 'Cause that lunatic sure as hell didn't drag you here like the rest of us."

"Well, I got chased, then lost, then I was looking for a safe place to hide from some Pokémon," I summarized. "That's how I ended up here. A bit far from safe, eh?"

"You were probably safer on the streets, mate," Miranda agreed. "You said you were lost, right? There's a map in the room he was holding us in, before he moved us onto display. Maybe it can help you point it to wherever you were heading."

"Actually? That's awesome!" I laughed. "Yeah, show me this thing."

"No problem. Least I can do after you saved us."

Miranda made her way back to the hall, the same one I was lead down into this room. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes, yet it seemed like a lifetime ago since I stumbled across the grisly collection. She reached the doorway and beckoned me over when she realized that I hadn't followed. I quickly caught up to her, grabbing my weapons off the floor as I jogged. I had no idea what other dangers were hidden in the building, and I wanted to be prepared should something decide to pop out.

When I peered down the candlelit corridor, Miranda was waiting outside an open room. "In here, Lee," she called out and disappeared though the door.

A brisk walk later and I was standing outside the door. I took a step in and stopped almost immediately at my first glance at the room.

It was barren and lit solely by candles, just like every other place in the building that I'd seen. The exception was the map that was tacked onto the far wall. An upside-down, five pointed star was painted on it in red, with a circle encompassing it. It could have been drawn on with simple red paint or markers, but knowing what the symbol was and who drew it, it had just as likely as a chance of being blood.

"Of course. Of freaking course," I muttered, approaching the map slowly. "This guy just had to be a Satanist."

"What makes you say the nutter was a... whaddya call it? A Satanist?" Miranda asked, standing next to the map.

"He drew a pentagram on the map," I said, pointing at the symbol. "That's the first thing everyone thinks of when an evil symbol is needed."

"Wouldn't know anything 'bout that, mate," Miranda said, tapping her head. "Don't have any memories, remember?"

"True." I nodded, looking closer at the map. A single dot was placed on a building in the middle of the star. I made a guess that was where we were. I looked at each point and found that they were all different locations too, only separated by a few blocks at most.

"Hey, Miranda, do you know where the Collector knocked you out?" I asked the Machop. "Like the street names or anything?

"Dunno the street," she answered. "I remember a buncha desks and shelves crammed with books. That's pretty much it."

"A library," I breathed. The rightmost point of the star was right on top of one. The five points of the star must have been where the Collector got all his victims from. Going counter clockwise around the star, I noted what the other points were. A bank. A school. A restaurant. Places that tended to have a lot of people in them. I got to the bottom point and felt my heart drop from my chest.

The point was dead on a condo. I read the street name over and over again, but each time it remained the same.

"Oh, shit, no," I cursed, backing away from the map. "Aw shit!"

"What's wrong, Lee?" Miranda asked, concern etched on her face.

What was wrong? The street was one I had just memorized. It was the corner Becca had told me to memorize not too long ago.

It was her apartment, and the Collector had made a little visit there.

"Make sure you free the rest of the prisoners," I told the confused Machop. "The humans will be just as useful as the Pokémon. I gotta go."

I bolted for the doorway without waiting for a response. Miranda was rendered immobile by shock, but recovered just enough to shout at me.

"Lee! Where the hell are you going?" she yelled at me in vain.

I barely heard her as I burst through the exit and into the frigid night. The blood pounded in my ears, blocking out most sound and making me feel like I was in a daze. Only one thing was on my mind at that moment: find Becca's mom.

And hope to God that she still had her head.

* * *

_**A/N: **Just wanna thank Clarilune for making that awesome cover for me. Lord knows I can't draw worth crap, so it came as a nice surprise when she told me about this._


	13. 1208

Hours of running, fighting and being constantly on the verge of a mental breakdown had all but drained me of any reserves of energy. As soon as that blast of cold winter air hit me, my body forgot any fatigue that weighed it down. I never ran faster in my life.

I tore down the sidewalk, heading south towards the apartments. The street was clogged with deserted traffic, a sight I had grown numb to. Before, I had used those cars as cover from any prying eyes. Now they were just husks that would slow me down.

Screw cover, or safety for that matter. I needed speed at this point.

I flew through the last intersection, spotting a group down the street to my left from a quick glance. I couldn't make out who or what they were, but regardless of their identities, I remained undetected.

My legs finally slowed to a stop, their goal achieved. They had delivered me to the front of a twenty story, brick and stucco apartment building. Becca told me she lived on the twelfth floor. I tired the door only to find it locked. Maybe Becca should have given me a key because it seemed that this door could only be opened by a tenant. Of course it couldn't be easy.

I took a step back from the door. It seemed solid enough. I doubted I could ram it down and I sure as hell didn't know how to pick the lock either. It wasn't going to allow me into the apartment without a challenge.

Well, challenge accepted. I dropped the bat and hefted up the shotgun, aiming it at the door. I then immediately lowered it. The shot would make too much noise. I was lucky to have dodged anyone getting here. The last thing I wanted to do was send a signal to every hungry Pokémon in the city as to where to get a quick meal.

I dropped the shotgun and picked up the bat. Beating stuff with a stick had worked in the past. Maybe it would work on the door too.

That's what I thought. What happens in reality is much different though. I tried smacking the handle. Nothing except a painful vibration passed through the wood and into my arms. I tried beating the windows. They cracked under the blows but didn't shatter like I had hoped. On closer inspection, I saw a wire mesh laced between the panes, preventing the windows from breaking.

"Well that's just great," I muttered, tossing the bat next to the shotgun. My hands laced through my hair, just like I always do when I'm frustrated. I battled across Edmonton against impossible odds only to be beaten by a freaking door. I groaned and looked to the sky, intent on sending a volley of curses to the heavens.

My eyebrows shot up when I found myself staring into the eyes of a blue and red bird perched on the second story windowsill. It cocked its head and I swore I could see a smile form on its beak.

"Have you encountered a problem, sir?" the Taillow asked in an oddly cheerful tone. It didn't seem too threatening, but its sudden appearance had me a little off edge.

"Uh, yeah. Door's locked," I said, pointing at the blockade. The bird glided down to the roof of a crashed car next to me. Its piercing eyes never left my face. "Do we know each other or...?"

"My name is Keatly, sir," the Taillow said. His mouth remained open, waiting for a positive response from me. All I could do was shrug, not recognizing the name at all. The Taillow deflated. "Oh... you don't remember me? I guess I really shouldn't be surprised. It was a hectic moment for you back there. It was silly for me to expect you to remember."

Back there? When had I seen a Taillow before? I started from the beginning, fast-forwarding through the memories. I stopped when I hit the point when I first met the Collector and he wanted to show me his collection. How I ventured into the room and saw his prisoners. I remember seeing Miranda and two humans, and chained in the corner was a blue and red bird looking miserable.

"You were one of the prisoners?" I finally asked. I couldn't tell the difference between Pokémon to be honest, so this Taillow could have just been a random bird.

The way the joy rushed back to his face told me different. Keatly hopped up and down excitedly. "Yes! Yes, I was!" he exclaimed, oddly happy to be a captive of an insane head collector. "You saved my life, sir. I'm in your debt forever. I'll do anything to repay you!"

I opened my mouth to respond with a thank you, but movement at the end of the street caught my attention. I froze when I saw the irregular body shapes and colours of the group. Too odd to be human.

I dropped into a crouch behind the car, heart escalating to a frenzied beat in a matter of seconds. Through the cracked glass, I could see them looking down the streets, deciding where to head next.

"What's wrong?" the Taillow inquired, looking down in confusion. He looked down the street towards the hunting Pokémon. "Why are you hiding from them?"

"Are you really asking that?" I hissed. "You really don't know what most Pokémon do when they catch a human?"

He shook his head. "I wasn't awake for very long before I was taken captive."

Wow, that's fortunate. Keatly hadn't seen anything too horrifying yet. I took a glance at the group. They had chosen their direction. Unfortunately, I was right in their path.

"All you need to know is that it isn't good," I said hurriedly. "Look, you said you owe me, right?"

The bird nodded rapidly. "Yes, yes I'll do anything."

"Good. I need you to find me a way into this building," I said, pointing at the apartment. "We'll call it even after that, okay?"

"Even? Hardly," Keatly chuckled. "I already know a way in, sir. Follow me."

The bird took flight to the side of the building. Creeping along the side of the car, I checked to see where the bird had flown to. I saw him perched on a metal catwalk attached to the side of the apartment.

"You can get access to the building from this window," the Taillow said, pointing to the glass frame next to him. "Come on, hurry, sir. Those scoundrels that you fear get closer every second."

I checked on the Pokémon advancing down the street. They methodically searched every car, trying to find an unfortunate victim hiding in the wreckage. Barely half the distance was already covered, leaving a meager few minutes for me.

I quickly ran to the alley while they had their heads buried in a small sedan. That only left me staring up at a fire escape ten feet straight up.

"Ladder is right here," Keatly announced. He pointed out the ladder that was locked in place well out of my reach.

"This is great and all, Keatly, but I can't fly like you can," I complained, observing the metal grid. "It's not like I can jump eight feet straight up."

Keatly frowned, searching around for a bit. His face brightened and he kicked a lever. The ladder released and plunged towards the ground. It crashed against the concrete with a metallic screech. I exchanged a horrified glance with Keatly.

"Oops," the bird mumbled.

"_Oops?_" I repeated, barely keeping myself from yelling. "What did you think was going to happen?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Keatly whined, looking hurt. "I didn't think it through that well."

I instantly felt bad for scolding him. He just wanted to help. But that didn't stop the crash from echoing down the street and no doubt alerting the group that I was trying to avoid.

I tossed my weapons to the fire escape. Keatly reacted fast enough to catch the bat before it fell and avoid the shotgun. Without missing a beat, I climbed as fast as I could. My feet slipped on the rungs and my shin burned every time the burn was irritated, but I pushed through and onto the first landing.

"I will get the ladder," Keatly said, but I stopped him with a simple hand on his shoulder.

"No time for that," I explained quickly. "You gotta get outta here right now, okay?"

"I really had not planned on staying," Keatly replied. I gave him a confused glance while I retrieved my weapons. "I caught up to you to ask why you preformed those heroics tonight."

"Heroics?" I laughed, using the butt end of the shotgun to smash the window into tiny fragments of glass before turning to the bird. "I didn't go looking to save people. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The only reason why I'm out here is because I have to repay someone for saving my life. I'm not a hero. A hero doesn't blast someone's head off."

"But... you just said why you're a hero," Keatly said. "You didn't have to help that person. You're doing this out of the kindness of your heart. It is your nature to be selfless. Despite what you think, you are a hero. And I am going to make sure the whole world knows that."

I watched Keatly fly off into the night without another word. He flew above the building and was gone, lost in the city. He probably had no idea where he was going.

"The noise came from over here!" a voice called from just outside the alley. That jolted me from standing in plain view to diving through the shattered window. It was only until I was in the apartment that I realized I hadn't told Keatly my name.

Sucks for him, I guess.

Standing up, I assessed the room I was in. The walls were pockmarked by dents, the furniture reduced to toothpicks. Something big let loose in here. I sincerely hoped that it was gone. A hole was blasted in the far wall, leading to an apparently empty corridor. Any other details were lost in the gloom, since every light had been blown out.

I treaded carefully across the apartment's carpet. Glass and bits of plaster crunched under my feet. As I stepped through the gaping hole in the wall, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was really wrong here. It felt... dead. That was the only way I could describe it. Nothing stirred. Though I couldn't see past the doors, I knew the apartments were just as empty as the one I had just entered.

A light bulb flickered at the end of the hallway. I headed towards it and the empty space where a door should have been. The mangled metal rectangle was a testament to the strength of whatever had smashed it into the wall. The rails leading to the ground floor were all bent and disfigured, and the concrete stairs were cracked and crumbled.

Yeah, not going downstairs. Good thing I wasn't heading down there anyways. I peered up through the column of open space between the landings and rubbed the box that held the potentially lifesaving insulin.

Apartment 1208, twelfth floor. That's where I would find Becca's mom. No point in dawdling. I took the stairs two at a time, my muscles and lungs cursing me as I did. Speed was the difference between life and death for her.

If she was still alive, that is.

Floor twelve wasn't in any better condition than the second floor. Lights all burned out, fractures crawling across the cheap wallpaper. A dark stain marked the carpet at my feet.

I swallowed the golf ball that formed in my throat and started walking down the hall.

I passed 1212's locked door, deep gouges carved in it.

1211's gray lettering stared back at me.

1210 had its living quarters exposed. A broken window let the breeze flutter through shredded curtains.

1209's door wasn't attached to the hinges of the frame. Instead, I had to step over its fragmented remains to proceed. The furniture inside had been shredded and thrown throughout the room.

1208 looked unmarked. I couldn't see inside it, and that scared me the most. A torn and mangled body could lie on the other side. Maybe it would be empty, the body of the girl's mother taken away. Or a crazy woman with a knife could be waiting, demanding to know where her precious daughter was and what I had done with her.

It was not knowing that scared me the most. Any horror that could be imagined existed beyond that door. I gripped the doorknob and twisted, half hoping it would be locked so I didn't have to find out what waited for me. The brass turned easily. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open.

Nothing popped out at me. Blood didn't splatter the walls. A clean room greeted me, furniture and valuables all intact. It looked like a regular apartment, as if it went untouched by the apocalypse.

I took a few tentative steps into the room and the door closed behind me. That wasn't freaky at all.

On edge, I ventured farther into the living room. A few black couches sat around a simple coffee table in perfect view of a nice television set which crackled with static. A kitchen sat in one corner at the opposite end of the room. Next to it, a hall lead to what I assumed were the bedrooms and a bathroom.

It was so... _normal_ in here. After hours spent in hellish conditions, standing in a simple living room just seemed so odd. It put me on edge even more. I slipped off my shoes out of habit as I explored the room.

My sore feet padded silently across the carpet, the hissing of the TV masking any faint noises. I cleared the couches and took a glance out the window. The blinds were pulled back fully, exposing me to the world. I shivered at the thought of being watched and switched my gaze to the kitchen. A dark lump lay in the doorway, half hidden behind the frame. I squinted to make out what it was in the gloom.

It wasn't a shapeless lump. A pair of legs lay motionless on the pale carpet. My hands went slack, dropping the weapons.

The image of a headless corpse was the first thing that came to mind. Her head nothing more than a trophy claimed by the Collector. How would I tell Becca that her mom was dead? How could I tell her that I had failed?

I stumbled forward, anticipating a gruesome sight on the other side of the wall. The chest came into view, intact and clean. No blood stained the tiles. Not exactly a fully good sign. The Collector had to get all that blood from somewhere.

The full kitchen came into view and I allowed myself to breathe. Her head was still attached to the rest of her body. No lacerations or visible injuries. She just lay there, perfectly still like she was sleeping.

I dropped to my knees next to her. Her resemblance to her daughter was uncanny. Same brown hair, same face. Albeit, her hair was streaked with gray and her face had started to develop a few wrinkles, but that was all that differentiated her from Becca.

All I had to do was wake her up, give her the insulin and head back. Finally, something simple, right?

"Hey. Wake up," I said softly, trying to coo the older woman out of her dreams. No response. Guess she was a deep sleeper. "Helloooo. Mrs..." I frowned when I realized I didn't know Becca's last name. Just one more thing I forgot to ask for. "Becca's mom? You gotta wake up now. I've got your shot."

No response. I tried again, more forcefully, even resorting to slapping her cheek very lightly. Nothing worked. She seemed so content, completely oblivious to the chaos outside her apartment. She just slept, remaining completely still in my presence.

Maybe a little too still...

"Oh no." Why didn't I think of that before? I searched for the basic signs of life. I felt the slight gusts of air from under her nose. She was breathing, but it was very shallow. Her pulse was also incredibly slow and unnervingly faint.

She wasn't asleep. She was unconscious. Damn, I'm an idiot.

I fumbled for the insulin box, sliding the syringe out. This was supposed to help, right? But how? Did I just jab it in her and hope for the best?

I examined the needle point. There wasn't much else I could do. It's not like you can do much else with a syringe. I raised my arm high, sent a prayer to whoever was listening and plunged the needle into the woman's leg.

I stayed frozen in that position waiting for something to happen. A few minutes passed before I realized that it was going to take a while for her to wake up. It was insulin, not adrenaline. She wasn't going to wake up as soon as I stabbed her.

I slumped against the counter, leaving the syringe sticking out of her leg. All I had to do now was wait.

I eyed the couches in the living room. They just screamed comfort and I instantly wanted to just sink into one. I looked over at Becca's mom, still passed out and oblivious. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to wake up to the apocalypse if you were waking up on a comfy couch instead of a cold floor.

I groaned and stood up, my knee creaking from the strain. I grabbed hold of one of her legs and started dragging her out of the kitchen. She snorted in her sleep, and I wondered how she would react to seeing me in her apartment and how she would take the news.

Man, this was going to be awkward to explain.


	14. How Not to Explain the Apocalypse

She woke slowly. At first, only her mind was active, taking in a few bits of sensory information around her. Then she began to move. A twitch here, a groan there.

Very slowly, her body was coming back to the waking world.

When her eyes finally opened, her gaze flicked around the room. The only light came from the window, but even that was dim. All she was able to make out was a solitary figure sitting on the couch across from her. And the silence. Why couldn't she hear anything? Where was the ever present sound of city from the streets below?

She rubbed her eyes to regain some lost focus. Confusion swept across her face as the figure on the couch became clearer. She didn't expect to see a boy wearing bloodstained and torn clothes sitting on her couch, watching her without blinking.

"Who are you?" she croaked. "And why are you in my home?"

I snapped out of my trance. How long had I been staring at her?

"Um, hi. I'm Lee," I said, not really knowing what else to add.

She slowly sat up, and though she looked frail, her gaze held some serious intensity. "You didn't answer my question. Who are you, and why the hell are you in my home?"

What the...? I expected confusion, not anger. This threw me off guard and I stumbled right off the bat on my explanation. "Y-yeah, I'm Lee, and I am, um- a friend? - of Becca's, I guess. She, uh, told me y-you needed an insulin shot, so, yeah. I came here and gave it to you and that's why you're awake... I think."

"You 'guess' you're a friend of Rebecca's?" she deadpanned, seemingly the only thing she garnered from what I said.

I scratched my head awkwardly. "Yeah, I don't really know what to call our relationship either. She saved my life, I saved hers. Kinda just assumed that made us buds."

"I'm not buying this. You break into my home, claiming you're a friend of my Rebecca – who is conveniently missing by the way – and just expect me to believe you?"

"O-okay, I get you're upset, a-and I haven't really been clear with my explanation, but I promise you that I know Becca, or Rebecca or whatever, and she told me to come here."

She eyed me, sizing me up. She gasped when she saw the shade of my clothes. "Oh my... is that blood? Are you covered in _blood_? Who... what... where did that come from?"

"Huh?" I looked down at me clothes, which were definitely not red to start off. "Oh... no. I can explain-"

"It is blood!" she shrieked. "Whose is that... no. Is it Rebecca's?" I was too startled to reply, so she took that silence as a yes. "Oh my God! C-Cameron! Cameron, h-help!" She looked around frantically, trying to find Cameron, but when she didn't see anyone, it only fueled her panic. "Where is he? Where... where's my husband? And my son? Where are they? _What did you do with my family_?"

"I-I didn't do anything!" I sputtered, jumping up. I didn't even know Becca had a brother. "I don't know where they are!"

Apparently, she did _not _like that answer. Her cries only became shriller. It struck me that anyone could hear her, and not all of them had the best intentions. Now panic rose in my brain and I did the first thing that came to mind.

I grabbed her shoulder and clamped my hand over her mouth.

Her screams became muffled, but that didn't stop her from struggling. For a supposed cripple, Becca's mom was strong and I was already tired. She started overpowering me, inching me back towards the couch.

"Look, please, just calm down!" I begged, dropping my voice a bit. "I get that you're confused an-and worried but you have to trust me. I didn't take your family, and I d-don't know where they are, but I do know that Becca's hurt, and if you keep yelling, you're gonna attract some very unwanted guests. So, please, just calm down and let me explain!"

She stopped struggling and yelling. Though calmer, worry and panic was still prevalent in her eyes. I kept my hand over her mouth just in case.

"Thank you," I breathed after a few moments of tense silence. "I promise you, I will explain everything, answer every question. You'll just have be as quiet and accepting as possible, okay?" She nodded, staring down at me. Her gaze was a bit intimidating, since, well, she was taller than me. "It-it's gonna sound crazy, but I swear, it's the truth."

I removed my hand and collapsed into the couch behind me. Becca's mom sat down on the once across from me.

"So, what do you want to know?"

"Where's Rebecca? Is she hurt? And what happened to the rest of my family?" The questions burst out of her mouth like water from a broken dam. "Why do we need to be quiet? Who would hurt us, and why would they? Why are you covered in _blood_?"

I waited a beat to make sure she was done. Blinking blankly a few times, I realized she was done. Man, that was a lot of questions. Where would I even start? I decided to go with the easiest ones first.

"Um, I... I don't know what happened to your family," I said somberly. "Becca was the only one I found. We were both in the pharmacy and I got attacked, and she saved me. She got bit really bad on her leg, though, so I tried patching her up as best as possible. Don't worry, though. She's safe, or safer than she would be outside."

"But what happened to make it so dangerous?" Becca's mom interjected. Her voice was choked. Hearing your daughter got attacked would probably do that. "Who would attack a little girl?"

"What happened?" That was the million dollar question right there. I still had no idea what caused this. "Yeah, this is the crazy part I was talking about. A few hours ago, something happened that made Pokémon just... _appear_ in our world."

"Pokémon," she repeated hollowly.

I nodded. "That's who attacked me and Becca. That's why we need to be quiet. Pokémon are in our world now and for some messed up reason they hunt down humans and eat us. And they seem to _enjoy_ it, too." Her face was blank, with her mouth slightly open. "Yeah, it's messed up, but it's the truth."

A minute passed in silence before she chuckled lightly. "You really are crazy."

"Huh?"

"Pokémon. You mean those funny little creatures in that cartoon show, right? You're telling me they're running around outside and killing people and you expect me to believe that?"

"Yes, I do, because it's the truth!" I said, flabbergasted. Why was it so hard to convince her? "I know, it's hard to believe, but that's what happened."

"It's going to take a lot more than a half-assed explanation from a teenager to convince me that _Pokémon_ are real now," she challenged me with a patronizing smirk.

Now it was my turn to be in shock. She didn't believe me at all. I guess it was idiotic to assume she would just accept what I said as truth. Not everyone had the luxury of waking up with a crocodile on their chest proclaiming the end of the world. All I had were words.

This wasn't awkward to explain.

It was downright impossible.

* * *

It took half an hour and a lot of calming down, but I managed to convince Becca's mom that Pokémon did indeed enter our world.

How? As expected, words failed. Hard. Whatever I said was shot down as fake before I even got a chance. She just didn't want to – no, _couldn't_ – accept what I was saying was the truth. Even to me it seemed insane, and I was the one trying to convince her.

In the end, all she needed was a visual. I brought her over to the window and showed her the streets below. Not only were they a scene of carnage with the mangled husks and stalled bodies of cars, but a fire Pokémon just so happened to be passing through when she looked. Needless to say, seeing a flaming figure walking nonchalantly down the road was enough to tell her something wasn't right. And that's when what I said finally sunk in.

She didn't handle it very well at first. The previous hysteria came back in full force and I had to restrain the taller woman. I all but pushed her into the couch and reassured her in a soothing voice that everything was going to be alright. Her daughter was safe – kinda – and she would be to.

"Just stay quiet, don't go near the windows, don't cook, don't do anything that would lead anyone to think that there's someone up here," I instructed her. "As long as you don't do anything to show you're up here, no one will look. They won't have any reason to, right?"

"What if... what if someone else comes by? Someone who's willing to help?" she asked. I couldn't help but notice the sound of defeat in her voice. "They wouldn't check in here, and I'll be left behind. Isn't it safer to be in large groups?"

I pondered that. Yeah, it made sense. More people, more protection. But half the humans I met in these past few hours had tried to kill me. So I ended up shaking my head. "Some people... some aren't right in the head. For now, only answer the door for me, okay?"

She nodded, keeping her head to the ground. She looked tired. Beyond tired, actually. Seeing the world changed like this so suddenly, it would make anyone depressed, make them want to give up. And after seeing so many bodies and people whose minds had snapped, I was feeling close to giving up too.

"You'll protect her, right? You'll protect my baby girl from all this?"

I almost missed the question she spoke so quietly. She looked at me pleadingly. She needed this. She needed to be sure her daughter would be safe.

"I will," I told her. "I promise. I'll make sure she won't get hurt anymore."

"Thank you."

She did something I hadn't been expecting. She hugged me. It was so sudden and tight that I had no choice but to allow it. And just as quickly, I sunk into the embrace, wrapping my arms around her as well.

It felt good to be hugged. Reassuring and soothing and making you feel just a little more protected. Such a simple gesture to show that yes, someone does still care about you. Mom's were the best at this. Maybe that's why I was so accepting to this stranger. Because I missed my mom, and this was just so familiar and comforting. I needed it just as much as her, because I was just as confused and scared as she was.

"I'll bring her back," I said, removing myself from the hug. "Not tonight, though. We'll try for tomorrow. Hopefully it'll be safer in the day."

As I stood and turned for the door, she grabbed my hand. "Just wait. I need to give you something."

I started to protest, but she limped away before I could make any sort of excuse. I noticed how she favoured her left leg, her right one stiff, and how she used the wall to support her whenever she could. She quickly disappeared into the rooms behind the kitchen.

While waiting, I realized how tired I was. I had been resting for an entire hour, and my body had gotten used to the break from the action. My legs were stiff and all my aches competed to see which one of them could be the most painful. I did some simple stretches do loosen up and alleviate the pains, but those could only go so far. It would take about a week of straight sleep to feel better.

After a few minutes of anxious waiting, Becca's mom hobbled back into the living room, carrying a gray knapsack. It was puffed out, clearly packed.

She thrust the bag into my arms. "You'll need this."

"Oh... no, I'm good. Really," I protested, holding the bag at arm's length. For how big it looked, it wasn't that heavy. "I can't take this. What's even in here anyways?"

"Clothes," she said with a small smile. My eyebrows shot up and she even laughed a bit. "Clean clothes. Much better than being covered in blood, I think. It's a good thing my younger son was your size. I also packed a bit of food too."

"Oh." Well, that was embarrassing. Sure I was small, but being the size of someone younger than Becca was still a blow to my pride. "Thanks, but I still really don't need this. We're fine with food, too. I sure the Tim Horton's we're camping in has plenty."

She gave me a look like she was unsure if I was joking or not. Either way, I took this as the moment to finally leave. Not because I wanted to get away, but because I was sure if I stayed any longer, I wouldn't want to leave.

"Okay, really need to get back to your daughter now," I said quickly, already out the door.

"Please, just be safe," she called out to me quietly. She was just like Becca. They even said the same things. I couldn't help but laugh.

"It's the apocalypse. What's the worst that could happen?" I joked as she closed the door.

I found out about two minutes later exactly how wrong things could go.


	15. The Worst That Could Happen

Feeling elated, I descended down the stairs. Becca's mom was okay, she understood the stakes and I was still alive. I even got a backpack full of clean clothes, which also served as a nice shotgun holder to free up a hand. Things were finally going right for once.

I jumped the last stair of the second landing. The first floor still seemed too sketchy, so I planned on using the fire escape again to get to street level.

I walked though the empty doorway to the second floor and froze. Seven Pokémon stared back at me, halted in the process of kicking down doors, and were just as startled as I was.

Suddenly, the first floor looked a lot better.

"Get him!" the Golduck yelled. He seemed vaguely familiar, but I didn't bother trying to figure out from where. I was already running down the crumbling staircase before the words even fully left his mouth.

A crash from above knocked dust from ceiling. Shouts and yells, all eager for the chase and prospect of a meal. They seemed rowdy. I sure as hell wasn't.

I had gotten too comfortable. I had forgotten about the Pokémon that sent me running up here. They were bound to follow. They heard the ladder smash the ground and the window break, and maybe they even heard the conversation between me and Keatly. It just wouldn't be my luck if they hadn't followed me up.

I tripped on the last stair, running headlong into the metal door to the apartment building's lobby. That sent me to the ground. A jagged rock soared over my head, embedding itself into the wall next to me. I looked back to see a grinning Graveller halfway down the stairs.

I picked up my bat and staggered to my feet. The door was just ahead, and I broke into an uneasy sprint. Get to the door and I was safe. Well, not safe, but not in a cramped building at least.

I hit the door at top speed, only to rebound off the solid frame and crash heavily onto the carpet. Of course it was locked. I flipped onto my belly, finding myself staring at two rocky feet.

"You're mine," the Graveller chuckled. Its four arms reached to me. I crawled back, trying to escape the inevitable deadly grasp.

That extra little bit of distance was lifesaving, since a gray and blue blur stampeded by, ramming into my attacker. The room shook from the proceeding collision with the wall, reducing the rock Pokémon to the gravel it was made of.

A gray dinosaur roared at the pile of rubble that used to be the Graveller. Its head was capped with a blue helmet and ringed with spikes. Blue stripes decorated its hide. I had no idea what this Pokémon was, but as it turned to me, I knew it wasn't entirely friendly.

Its mouth wasn't foaming, but the look in its eyes sent a very clear message. This was its territory and I was an invader.

Its tail lashed and it pawed the ground, ready to charge. Luckily, or unluckily, the rest of the pursuing Pokémon decided to catch up, pouring out of the stairwell. The Golduck eyed the remains of their comrade and growled, drawing the attention of the dinosaur in front of me.

My eyes flicked to my left. An emergency light flickered over a door. Another way out. The only other way out.

I looked at the standoff. The dino was trying to decide who to attack first, while the group was glaring at both the dino and me, summing up which one of us worth the fight. I'd have to outrun all of the Pokémon. Could I do it?

I'd have to try.

The dino yelped as I ran for the door. The group took the distraction and attacked the poor, outnumbered Pokémon. I tried not to feel bad about using that dino as bait, but it was either me or it, and self preservation won out.

Thankfully, this door wasn't locked and I burst out into the night. This time, I managed to avoid falling and crashing into the wall. I turned and sprinted out of the alley and into the street.

While waiting for Becca's mom to wake up, I took the liberty of finding a map to trace my way back. I memorized the route, so I didn't end up getting lost again. I had enough adventures for tonight.

Lungs already burning, I traced the path in my mind. I made it to the end of the street, checking to see which way I had to go. Just as I was about to choose, a shout came from the building. "There he is! Don't lose him!"

I spun around and swore. Three Pokémon stood by the apartments. An Ariados, Ursaring and Vigoroth glared at me from across the street.

And the chase was on once again. Dodging around cars and ducking through alleys, I ran back towards the restaurant. My safe haven. But I had to lose my pursuers first. I couldn't lead them right back to my friends.

The voices occasionally grew fainter, and I would think I had lost them, only for them to regain their intensity. I think I lost one halfway. The other two were harder to shake, and were always close by.

A block from the Tim's, I sprinted into an alley, my pursuers still on the street over. Thinking I finally lost them, I pounded down the concrete. Too late did I hear the voices from behind the corner. Not able to stop, I plowed into the figures as they turned the bend.

Pain erupted from my burned shin and I landed hard on the pavement, adding more bruises to my long list of injuries. The Pokémon I ran into swore loudly and I reached for my bat for protection.

"Ah, what the hell was that?" cursed the first one.

"Oi, mate, whaddaya think you're doing?" demanded the second.

Wait, I knew that voice. I looked up to see a Machop picking itself up from the ground. A yellow rat shook the dirt out of its fur next to it.

"Hey, you're the boy who shot that head collector guy," the Pikachu pointed out. He looked to have had a rough night, but otherwise was unfamiliar. The Machop however...

"Yeah, he's also the wanker that ran out on us," Miranda scolded, glaring down at me, since I was still on the ground. "Wanna explain why you ditched us, mate?"

"I'm sure he has his reason's, Miranda," the Pikachu said.

Angry yells echoed down the alley. I jumped to my feet. "Okay, that's my cue to leave. Great catching up with you guys, but I gotta run."

I limped off as fast as I could, trying to make up for the lost lead. The fall only made my injuries hurt even more.

"You ain't leavin' us behind again, mate!" Miranda called out, quickly catching up to me. The Pikachu pulled up beside me a second later.

"Yeah, we need to stick together," the electric type added. "It's not like we have anywhere else to go."

"I do have a place to go," I growled through gritted teeth. My pace slowed to a light jog. "And I'm going alone. You can't come with me. Got it?"

"We'll die out here, though!"

I spun around to face them, stopping at the end of the alley. The Tim's was just down the road. So close, yet so far. I just needed to ditch these stragglers. "You two are _Pokémon_. Don't you get it? You're _safe_ out here with your kind. You're not human. You're not just another meal to these sadistic bastards!"

"My ears are burning," cackled a voice from above. My head snapped up. A giant red and black spider grinned at me from the brick wall. "Forget about us?"

Before I could react, she dropped, latching onto my face. My bat flew out of my hand and I collapsed to the pavement screaming.

Saliva dripped on my cheek as I struggled to keep her deadly pincers away from my neck. She laughed the entire time, loving the fight. The white horn inched closer to my eye and I grasped it, trying to keep her back while my arm was forced under her jaw to prevent her from biting me.

I saw the yellow stinger on the back rise too late, pointing right at my gut. It plunged downwards and I wouldn't have been able to dodge it even if I had tried.

I never felt it impale my stomach because the Ariados was suddenly flung off me, a gray body attached to its side. I gasped, watching Miranda grappling with the giant bug. The Machop dealt a massive blow to her face, crippling one of the mandibles.

I spotted my bat strewn in the middle of the street. I was about to run for it when I saw Miranda tossed against the wall. She hit the ground hard and didn't get back up. The Ariados advanced on the fallen fighter, but the Pikachu guarded his friend, fur crackling with electricity.

No time for the bat. I reached for my back and tugged the shotgun from the pack. The long barrel slid smoothly out of the fabric.

Flipping the gun, I grabbed hold of the top and swung the gun like a club. The spider didn't see the butt of the gun until it smashed into her side. The exoskeleton cracked and she skidded across the ground away from Miranda.

"Playing dirty, now, honey?" she chided in a sickly sweet voice, springing back up.

"Nah, we playin' as a team, bitch," Miranda growled, struggling to her feet. "You ready for this, Eric?"

The Pikachu nodded. "Right, teamwork. Three on one. Odds are for us."

"Aw, that's so sweet. You fight as one," the spider chuckled. "And you will die as one."

It happened so fast, I barely had time to realize what happened. She sprayed white gunk, catching Eric the Pikachu in the face and blinding him. That was followed by a charge. She tackled my knees and knocked my feet from underneath me, causing me to land hard on my shoulder, pain erupting in my side. Miranda cried out as she was pinned to the wall by one of the striped legs.

I rolled over. Eric was held down by one of the Ariados' legs. Miranda was helpless against the brick, vainly trying to breathe past the leg crushing her windpipe. Cackling, the overgrown bug raised a free leg, hovering over Eric's chest.

Without thinking, my grip tightened on the shotgun grip, swinging it around to point at the spider. Two Pokémon who were trying to help me were about to die, and I'd seen enough good people die tonight.

Without hesitation, I grasped the gun with both hands and pulled the trigger.

The buckshot blasted out of the barrel and into the Ariados, launching the bug off of the Pikachu. Green liquid sprayed out of the spider and onto the walls. She crashed into a dumpster and fell into a crumpled heap. The green liquid – her blood – pooled around her body, oozing from the shattered exoskeleton.

All this played out in silence. My ears rung from the shotgun's discharge. It was _loud._ I shook my head to restore my hearing, and it returned mostly except for a faint ringing.

"Yeah, we're freaking safe, right? Is that what you said?" Miranda snarled, clutching her throat. "We won't get attacked just because we're Pokémon. 'Cause that's how it works, right?"

"Miranda, calm down," Eric muttered. He tore the silk from his face. "He doesn't know what it's been like for us. He couldn't have."

"I don't know what you've been through?" I laughed humourlessly. "I've spent this entire night trying to avoid getting eaten. I know better than you what it's like being attacked."

"Clearly you don't, you bloody twat," Miranda spat. "You think just 'cause we're Pokémon that we're safe. You don't get that it's just as dangerous for us out here as it is for you."

"Look at us, Lee," Eric suggested, still acting as the barrier between me and Miranda. "Does it look like we've had an easy time tonight?"

Fuming, I checked the Pokémon closely. I was shocked at how battered they actually were. Eric was covered in bruises, cuts and blood, and his face was disfigured with swelling. Miranda's gray hide was scratched and scraped, one of her eyes ringed in black. These two had had their share of fights today, and they hadn't made it out unscathed. I knew for a fact that Miranda wasn't this beat up when I first saw her.

"You... how did all this happen?" I asked quietly.

"How do you think?" Miranda responded sullenly, studying her feet. "Wasn't the first time we've been attacked. Other 'mons been pickin' on us all night."

"Why, though? Why attack your own kind?"

"Because we're weak." Eric scowled. "We're small, not that strong. We're easy prey. It's the same reason why most Pokémon seem to go after humans. You guys are delicate, so it's an easy meal."

Eric had a point about us being delicate. Officer Aaron was incapacitated by one good slice while Steve managed to survive a bullet to the gut. At least, he was still alive when I left him. Pokémon were just naturally stronger than humans.

Then I looked at the Ariados' corpse, green blood trickling from the gaping holes in her side. Sure, humans weren't the strongest, but that didn't mean that we could fight back.

"We needa get of the streets," Miranda huffed, clutching her arm now. "I don't think I can keep this up much longer."

"Come on, Lee," Eric pleaded. "You know we can't survive out here much longer by ourselves. You have a place to go. You can help us, just let us come with you!"

"Even if you won't, we can just follow you to see where you go," Miranda pointed out.

I sighed. They had me there. And I don't know how I'd be able to handle the weight on my conscious knowing I left two relatively friendly Pokémon out on the streets to die. I may be a killer, but I wasn't heartless.

"Okay, fine. You can join us," I said, giving in. "It's just down the street."

I turned and started weaving through the traffic, scooping up the bat as I walked and stuffing it in the open bag. I couldn't run. Not only was I tired, but my legs were so sore they just wouldn't have been able to perform even that level of activity.

Feet scampered along the ground and Miranda and Eric pulled up beside me. Damn, these Pokémon were fast.

"Lee, you said 'us' back there," Eric thought out loud. "What did you mean by that?"

"Heh, you'll see," I replied vaguely, smiling down at the Pikachu. I strode through the alley and rapped on the door loudly. "Eh! Open up!"

No response. I frowned.

"Looks like no one's home, mate," Miranda said. I ignored her and that Eric had slunk off to the other side of the alley.

I tried again. "Becca, open up. It's Lee."

Still nothing. Worry flared up in my mind. Maybe she had fallen asleep, or the door was just that good at soundproofing. Or maybe her leg was worse than I thought and she lost too much blood.

My train of thought was cut off by Eric's panicked yell. "Guys! We've got company!"

My head snapped up to see Eric hightailing it back into the far end of the alley. Just as he made it between the buildings, a white monkey lunged from behind the wall, slashing Eric. The Pikachu cried out and skidded into the wall. He tired getting up, but was pinned down by his attacker's foot.

"Oh, I see you found some friends, human," the Vigoroth gloated, sneering at us from the other side of the alley. "That's nice. These two will make nice appetizers."

"Back off, git," Miranda growled, taking a threatening step closer.

"Ha, no. I think I'll stay right here." He laughed and dug his foot into Eric's side where the slash marks were. Eric yelled and struggled more, but that only resulted in more pressure being applied.

I hefted my shotgun up, aiming at the Vigoroth's chest. "Let him go," I ordered. My voice was strangely calm and steady considering the situation. I guess seeing a friend in pain really bolsters your courage.

"Or what? You're gonna shoot me?" the sloth taunted.

I pumped the gun. "That's the plan."

"You don't have the guts to pull the trigger, kid."

"Yeah? Tell that to your spider friend back there."

The Vigoroth's sneer turned into a scowl. "You killed her?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?"

"Lee, just shoot this bastard!" Miranda shouted, tired of watching the scene in silence.

"I will!" I yelled back. I turned back and leveled the gun with the attacker again.

Was I really? That question popped into my mind, locking my hands. Yeah, I had shot people today. Killed them too. I literally took a life five minutes ago. Was this any different? No, it wasn't. So why didn't I pull the trigger already?

Sweat beaded on my forehead, my arms started to shake. Eric was in danger. Decision should be simple. Kill this Vigoroth and save his life.

"Do it already!" Miranda cried out.

"He's too big of a pussy to," the Vigoroth muttered, actually seeming disappointed. He raised his hand and the claws unsheathed.

_Do it. _

My jaw trembled. I didn't want to.

_Save Eric! Shoot this savage!_

I can't do it!

"Lee, for shit's sake, _pull the goddamn trigger_!" Eric screamed, echoing my thoughts.

That settled it. I squeezed the trigger.

*_click_*

The hammer struck, but no blast followed. At that moment, I realized it was a double barrel. The chambers only held a shot each. And I'd used both of them. The gun was empty.

"Such a tease," the Vigoroth chuckled and thrust his claws down.

"Nooo!" Miranda and I yelled together.

Eric wasn't as defenceless as he seemed. A large yellow bolt sprung from his body and blasted the sloth in the face. The Vigoroth was tossed into the wall, his fur now charred black.

We sprung into action, charging through the alley as the Vigoroth got back to his feet. I was slower and quickly fell behind, but Miranda wasn't going to wait for me to catch up.

She was out for blood. She tackled the sloth that was twice the size of her. Both fell, punching, scratching and fighting dirty. Miranda elbowed him in the stomach and the Vigoroth released her with a gasp and doubled over. Now free and on solid ground, Miranda broke his jaw with a devastating uppercut. Her opponent went limp, blood spilling from his mangled mouth.

I kneeled next to Eric. His side had three long, deep gouges and his fur was stained red. At least he was still awake, though. Same couldn't be said for the Vigoroth.

"Damn, Lee. Think you could've been a bit faster?" Eric groaned, clutching his side.

"Sorry, I... I don't know why I froze up," I muttered. "I just... needed some persuasion. Even if I was faster, the gun was still empty, so it didn't even matter."

"Yeah, I guess." Eric tried to stand, but grunted and flopped to his stomach. "Ugh... I'm going to need some help."

"No problem," I said and picked up the smaller Pikachu. He wasn't that heavy. Lighter than Steve for sure. "Eh, Miranda, let's g-"

_SNAP_

I looked up just in time to see the Vigoroth's head drop from Miranda's arms. It hit the ground, its neck at an awkward angle.

My jaw dropped.

"What?" Miranda asked innocently. As if she didn't know what she did.

I tried to form words but my mouth just couldn't do it. I was saved from answering with the high pitched squeak of rusty hinges. We turned as one to the door down the alley.

"Lee?" Becca asked, head poking around the metal frame. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with fear. "What happened out here? And what _they_ doing here?"

I found my tongue. "I-I'll explain later. C'mon guys."

I strode quickly to the door, Becca moving aside. A confused Machop followed soon after. The door closed behind me, blocking the alley from sight, and with it, the hell that the world had become.

* * *

_**A/N: **Okay, I finally reached this point of the story. Lee and co. have arrived at their safe zone and will hopefully be free of dangers for the rest of the night. It was not supposed to take 15 chapters of misadventures to get to here, but it has. And with this latest chapter, a total of _11 _people have died on screen from the beginning of the apocalypse. _

_Why is that fact important? Well, because no MAIN characters have died yet. That's odd, considering that this a world where anybody can die, even if they seem really important. So with chapter 15 comes a fun little game for you all to play (if you want):_

_I want you to guess who will be the FIRST character to die of the main cast, if any (mains tend to have names). Either drop a review with your choice or, if you are one of those shy people, you can use the poll on my profile. This will not affect the story, since I know if the characters are safe, but I just wanna see who you think will be the unlucky one or if the all current ones will escape unscathed._


	16. Shakedowns

As soon as the door closed, I placed Eric on a nearby counter and rounded on Miranda. "You wanna tell me what you pulled back there?"

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, her voice filing with venom to match mine.

"What the hell do you think I'm talking about?" She gave me a blank stare and I laughed mirthlessly. "You snapped that Vigoroth's neck. You killed him!"

Miranda shifted from a fighting stance to a relaxed state, anger shifted from humoured disbelief. "You taking a piss, mate? Is that what you're miffed about?"

"Yes! He was knocked out. He wasn't a threat anymore, yet you still _killed_ him."

"Lee, I don't get what you're so angry about," Becca said from the corner, leaning on a table. I was surprised at how well I could see her. It seemed brighter in here than when I left. "I mean, you've killed too, right? You bashed in that Mightyena's head at the pharmacy."

"That was different though," I shot back. "She didn't have to kill him. He was unconscious and she snapped his neck."

"So was the Mightyena after a point. You didn't stop until he was dead."

"I was scared, okay? I panicked. This wasn't self defence or heat of the moment. Miranda had time to think about this and she chose murder."

"But it _was_ self defence," Eric jumped in, defending his friend from the counter. "Lee, he tried to kill us. He almost succeeded in killing me." He pointed to the nasty set of gashes on his side. "If he was left alive, he would know exactly where we were and just come back."

"We could have moved him somewhere. He didn't have to die."

"What if he came back anyways?" Eric challenged, fighting though the pain and standing up to get a little closer to eye level with me. "Do you really want to risk everyone's lives just to spare a killer's life? Think about what you're saying, Lee. If we left him alive, he would just keep killing others, potentially one of us. Any of our lives are worth much more than his. Whether you like it or not, it was the right thing to do."

I was backed in a corner on this. Killing was not right. I should never be right. But when faced with Eric's cold logic, I found myself not able to ignore the reasoning.

What would I do if any of my friends were killed by the Vigoroth because we let him live? What if Becca died? Or Steve? Or Miranda or Eric or Keatly, or anyone else that wasn't a crazy, bloodthirsty monster? The world was a bit safer without people like that. I should feel better knowing that he wasn't hurting good people anymore.

It didn't make it any easier to swallow though. "Killing is never right." I said simply. Miranda opened her mouth to protest, but Eric stopped her. He knew they'd won, even if I wouldn't admit that they were right.

"You guys are hurt," Becca stated, breaking the silence.

Miranda surveyed her body and limbs to assess the damage. "Yeah, us lot have seen better days."

"We've got some first aid stuff, if you want to, you know, clean up," Becca continued on, trying to fill the awkward gap.

"That would be much appreciated," Eric thanked her.

"I'll get it then."

"I'll get it, Becca," I told the younger girl quietly, stopping her. "You've got a busted leg. Better to keep off it."

She looked at the white bandage on her leg which was pockmarked by red and nodded sadly. I limped through the rows of counters, my knee still locked in pain. I realized why it seemed brighter in here. A few of the overhead lights had been turned on, casting a dim glow over the entire kitchen.

As I reached for the scavenged medical supplies, I checked out Steve from afar. The Totodile looked even worse than when I left him. His scales had become pale and sweat beaded his forehead. His mouth was pulled in a permanent grimace like the pain of the gunshot had seeped into his dreams.

I grabbed a bottle of antiseptic and a fresh roll of bandages before returning to the emergency exit where everyone was still huddled. The Pokémon accepted the first aid eagerly. Miranda got to work on Eric as soon as she got her hands on the supplies.

Becca tugged on my sleeve. "Lee, I have to tell you something. It's really important," she said. I tilted my head to show I'd heard, but my mind was still buzzing with tonight's events. "It's about Steve."

That gained my attention. My head snapped towards her. "What? What happened?"

"I'll show you." She grabbed my hand and led me back to Steve. Worries rebounded in my mind like rubber balls in an empty globe. What was wrong with Steve? He looked like crap, sure, but there couldn't be anything seriously wrong with him, right? Because if there was, I don't think there was much I could do.

"So what's wrong with him?" I blurted out once we reached the pale crocodile.

"Nothing," Becca said, dropping her voice. "Not that I know of, at least."

"So-"

"Quiet!" she whispered harshly, cutting me off.

"So why did you bring me over here?" I asked as low as I could. "And why are we whispering?"

"Because I didn't want them to hear," Becca said, gesturing over towards our new Pokémon companions. "Lee... I don't know where you found them, but I don't trust them."

"Why? Because they're Pokémon?"

"Yes! You've been out there longer than I have. You know how evil they are."

I glanced back at the Pokémon, helping treat each other's injuries, like they were lifelong friends. The same Pokémon that had saved me multiple times in a few short hours. Did I think they had some skewed morals? Yes. Were the evil, though? Not a chance.

"Eric and Miranda are trustworthy," I finally said. "Why don't you trust them, anyways? You're fine with Steve."

"I'm fine with Steve because he's pretty much comatose. And you're seriously asking me why I don't trust Pokémon?" she pointed to her wrapped leg on that last part.

"Becca, they're good. If you can't trust them, then trust me when I say that they won't harm us. Okay?" She nodded silently, keeping her gaze locked to her sneakers. I breathed out lightly. "Was that the only reason you brought me over here?"

She shook her head. Her face was dark and eyes were glistening when she turned back to me. "My mom. Is she...?"

"Alright?" I finished for her. She nodded again, unable to finish her own thoughts. I broke into a smile. "I gave her the insulin. She's awake, knows what's going on. Yeah, she's alright."

"Thank you, Lee!" she squeaked and wrapped me in a tight hug, her face buried in my chest. I took in how close she was to my height for a twelve year old girl. Man, my pride was life's punching bag today. "Thank you so much. I knew you could do it. I was so worried since you were gone so long, but I'm so happy you're both okay."

"I keep my promises, remember?" I chuckled, returning her embrace.

"I know, but I was still worried. Thank you." She released me and took a step back, wiping a tear from her cheek.

"So, Steve's fine, right?" I asked, changing the topic.

"Oh, right. Yeah, he's good. I think," she said. I gave her a questioning look with the "I think" part. "Well, he's been out mostly since you left. He came to once when I turned on the lights – oh, here's your DS by the way." She pulled my handheld out of her pocket and passed it to me. "Still got full battery, just so you know. Anyways, he mumbled something before passing out again."

"What did he say?"

"I'm not quite sure." Becca frowned as she tried to recall. "I think he was apologizing about something. All I caught was 'I'm sorry' and the rest was just nonsense."

I grunted. Why would Steve be apologizing? I couldn't think of any reason. It's not like he failed me. If anything, he'd saved my life by blasting the crazy old guy off me while I was being strangled. I'd have to ask him when he woke up.

If he woke up.

I pounded my forehead to clear that thought. A sharp sting responded. I felt the skin under my hairline and was greeted by torn flesh. I'd forgotten about the gash I'd received from the car crash.

"I'm gonna clean this thing up. Don't want it getting infected," I told Becca, gesturing to my cut. I didn't mention my blood baptism. Who knows what was swimming in that blood and got into my body. I sure as hell didn't. And I don't think I wanted to know what I may have contracted.

"Thanks again, Lee," Becca said with a small smile as I grabbed the last roll of bandages and a bottle of disinfectant. "My mom... she's all I have left, I guess."

I paused. Becca's mom mentioned something about having a husband and son, but her daughter had never brought them up. "What do you mean by that? What happened to your dad and brother?"

"Oh..." she said, her voice small. "She... she told you about them."

It wasn't a question. More of a statement.

"Becca..." I prompted. "What happened?"

"I... I... I don't know. I don't know what happened to them," she said, defeated. The tears were back. Sparkling streams ran down her face, dripping of her chin. "They're... gone. They v-vanished. I don't know how, b-but they're just g-gone, Lee. One second they're there, and the next..."

Miranda and Eric had noticed our conversation. They sent concerned looks over at us. I waved them off and got back to consoling Becca. What she was saying... it didn't sit well with me. It didn't sit well at all.

"Slow down a bit. Take a breather, okay?" I soothed her. The preteen girl took a few shaky breaths. The tears slowed down but didn't cease fully. "Just tell me what happened. Think you can do that?"

"No, I can't!" she choked. "I-I can't because _I _don't even know what happened. Lee, they vanished. That's the only way I can explain it. Me and my brother were watching the lights from the window, and my mom was in the kitchen and my dad was just about to leave to get her insulin and then that... that pulse hit. And when I woke up, they were... _gone_... I don't know how else to explain it, Lee... they were just gone."

"C-c'mon, Becca. That-that can't be right. They couldn't have just disappeared," I sputtered. I tried denying what she was saying. There had to be some other explanation for this. People just didn't vanish. Because if they did, that meant the doubts in my head were right and only made them grow stronger.

"I know what I saw, Lee!" she cried out, pushing me back. "They vanished! My dad was reaching for his coat and when I woke up it was lying on the ground right next to where he was. How else can you explain that? Have you not noticed the lack of people in the city? Or all the crashed cars? Last time I checked, downtown was not a ghost town. I don't care how many people were killed by Pokémon. A whole city can't be killed in a matter of hours! Everyone vanished. They vanished, just like my dad and brother. But for some reason, we didn't. I don't know why, Lee, but everyone disappeared and we were left because how else could you be the only other human I've seen all night in this city? How else could everything go so bad so fast?"

My mouth was suddenly very dry. Of course I saw all of this. All of the crashed and stalled cars. I'd seen more bodies than I could count. Yet, despite all the death, a city of a million humans seemed mostly devoid of any human life or remains. I never had a chance to really think what happened to all of those people whose bodies I never saw, who I never heard. Like the proverbial tree falling in the woods with no one to hear it, if I didn't see or hear anybody, it was like they didn't exist.

I didn't want to believe what I saw, that hundreds of thousands of people vanished in an instant. Because if Becca was right, that meant my best friend wasn't missing.

He was gone.

He was gone and I'd never see him again.

The same fate awaited my family, and Jasmine and anyone else I cared about. Just simply... gone.

Hands shaking, I grabbed the medical supplies and walked away. Becca tried to call me back but I barely heard her. Or I ignored her. Either way, I didn't turn back.

I needed to be alone.

I pushed open the door to the bathroom, not caring which one it was. Did it really matter? I tossed the stuff onto the counter, letting them roll around in sinks and gazed into the mirror.

A bloody, battered and broken boy stared back at me. I barely recognized myself, and it wasn't purely due to the layer of the gore that covered my body. My eyes had sunk into their sockets, dark rings circling them. My lower jaw trembled uncontrollably.

I looked worn out. That was it. This was just after one night, too. How would I look after a week? A month? A year? Would I even resemble the kid I used to be after that long?

If I even survived that long.

Why was I still here? What made me so special that I got to stay while almost everyone else vanished into thin air? It seemed like a cruel joke. You lose everyone and get to stay in a world where everything wants to kill you.

Great trade off, eh?

I had no control over this. I had absolutely no control over what happened next. I just had to deal with whatever was thrown at me and hope I would react in the way that I would survive.

I hated being at the mercy of others.

I hated this stupid apocalypse.

I hated the fact that I never got a choice.

Anger surged through my body. Pure rage. It needed a release, and fast. I grabbed the nearest thing to me – the bottle of disinfectant.

I glared at the mirror, the angry boy on the other side glaring right back. The boy I had become, the one that had been forced by this world to go through hell just to live. The one who had been forced to kill.

I hated him, and everything he represented.

I wanted him gone.

I roared and threw the bottle as hard as I could at the mirror. The glass shattered, the reflection dissolving into fragments of the room behind me. Clear liquid splattered on the wall from the broken bottle, pooling around the remnants of its holder.

I kept yelling until my throat was raw and lungs were empty. I forced more air into my lungs to continue screaming, but I choked on the air. That morphed into a sob.

My legs lost any strength and I sunk to my knees. Before I could even think of holding them in, the tears started to flow, and within seconds, I was weeping.

Knees drawn to my face, I huddled against the counter and bawled.


	17. and Breakdowns

I don't know how long I stayed curled in a little ball, crying and snivelling. It could've been a few minutes, it could have been a few hours. After a certain point, the tears stopped flowing and the sobs died down until only hiccups were left. I had gone from being confused to scared to frustrated to angry to full mental breakdown all within a very short time.

Now I just felt hollow. Cried out. I stayed in the fetal position. I had no reason to move. I probably would've stayed like that the entire night had it not been for a voice at the door.

"You look god awful," Miranda said lowly. I looked up from my ball at the Machop with bleary eyes.

"What do you want?" I muttered, staring blankly at the stalls.

"Just curious as to why you're using the woman's bathroom," she responded from right next to me a couple seconds later. I jumped, surprised that she was suddenly so close. I guess I hadn't noticed that she moved.

Then I realized what she said and laughed. It sounded as empty as I felt. "Does it really matter?"

"I suppose not," she said, taking a seat next to me. I eyed her suspiciously.

"Why're you here?"

"We all heard you yelling like a nutter. Then you went silent and we got concerned. Figured something happened to you, so I came to investigate, considering I'm the only one who can bloody walk."

I stayed silent. I wanted to be alone. I figured as long as I didn't respond she would get bored and leave. No such luck.

"Well, at least you're still alive in here, eh? That's something good."

"What's the point of being alive?" I mumbled.

"Come again?"

"Why bother living? What's the point if this is going to be our lives, you know?" I asked, looking at her sullenly through lidded eyes. "Everyone I know is gone, along with almost everyone else in the city. And those who are left mostly try to kill me. Then there's those Pokémon that all seem to want to kill us humans. What's the point of trying to survive if we're just going to end up dead like everyone else?"

Miranda's face was locked in state of disbelief. Eyebrows slightly raised, jaw hanging open, like she was waiting to see if I was joking. When she realized I wasn't, she let out a short chuckle. "What's the point of living? There's every reason to! Mate, you just said it yourself. You are one of the few that are still alive. You owe it to those who didn't make it, to your friends, to carry on living."

"You don't get it though, do you? With all those people trying to kill me, I have to kill them back to survive. I'm fourteen, Miranda! Fourteen! I'm not supposed to deal with this shit! I shouldn't be debating whether or not someone's life is more valuable than mine. I shouldn't be deciding who lives or who dies. There shouldn't be a gray area between right and wrong when it comes to killing people!

"I can't do this. This isn't who I am. I'm not a fighter. I've never been. I never threw a punch before trying to actually hurt someone. I don't belong in a kill or be killed world. I don't belong here. I just wanna to wake up from this nightmare. Go back to being a kid, with normal kid worries. I just want this to be over."

"I don't think _you_ get it, Lee," Miranda said harshly. She grabbed my chin and forced me to look in her eyes. "You say you're not a fighter. That you can't handle this world. But you've already shown that you can. This world has thrown everything at you, yet here you are. Still alive and kicking. I get that you don't want to change. That you're scared. Confused. But you don't have to lose everything you believe in. Do you really think you were the exact same person you were when you were a toddler? No. You grew up and changed a bit. This is the same. You just need to grow up and adapt to this world, but that doesn't mean you have to change everything about yourself. You don't have to choose between being a survivor and being Lee. You can be both."

I tore my eyes away from hers. Why couldn't she just go? I didn't want to be lectured. To be told what to do. What did she know, anyways? She couldn't remember her family, if she had one, so how could see even begin to understand what I was going through?

She couldn't. And here she was saying I could still be myself in this shit-hole of a world. Hah! What a joke.

Well... maybe there was some truth to what she was saying. If I didn't see anyone, then I wouldn't have to kill to survive. Just stay hidden. And if I did ever come across another person, if they were hostile I could just knock them out. Sure, it meant resorting to violence, but it wouldn't be murder.

Maybe Miranda was right here. It wasn't impossible to be good in the apocalypse. Much harder than being cold, but not impossible. I guess nothing good ever came easily. But this was a choice I could make. I could choose how to live my life and survive. If I really made an effort, I could beat the apocalypse's attempts to break me.

A strange warmth filled me. It spread throughout my body, filling the cold numb shell with purpose. Hope. Something I thought I had lost.

A smile slowly split my face. Miranda saw that and clapped me on the back. "There he is. Is fighter Lee back?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm back," I said. Using the counter as support, I struggled to a stand, stretching out my cramped muscles as I did.

"Good. Now there's several friends that you left out there that would really like to see you again. So you're gonna clean yourself up before heading out there, okay? 'Cause you still look like shit."

"I could use a bit of a clean up," I agreed, knowing full well that I was still covered in grime. "Thanks, Miranda."

"Anytime, mate," the Machop grinned before leaving the bathroom.

I kept my word. After trying the taps, I was pleased to see that the plumbing still worked. Using the bandages as cloths, I washed the blood off my face, arms and any other patch of exposed skin. Crimson water filled the sink and stained the counter around it, and a pile of soiled red rags adorned the corner. Getting the blood out of my hair was more difficult. Despite my best efforts, its natural black colour had a disturbing crimson tinge to it.

Dipping some of the sterile bandages into the pool of disinfectant, I got to cleaning out the various injuries covering my body. The cut on my forehead stung like hell and if I hadn't cried so much before, I would have started blubbering when I tried to clean the burn on my leg. I stripped off my sweater to try and get any other hidden injuries.

Somehow, I managed to keep my bag on through the breakdown. The clothes Becca's mom gave me came in handy with replacing my bloodstained ones. She even packed clean underwear. I was really going to miss my Oiler's hoodie, one that I had had for years, but no amount of washing was going to remove the horrors of tonight from its threads. Becca's brother wore some ratty clothes, but I had to thank him for the sweats and thick hoodie.

After much pain and difficulty, I looked into the mirror to observe my handiwork. Bandages covered my limbs, including a sloppily wrapped bandana around the gash on my head.

It was surprising how much a little cleaning did to my appearance. This mirror didn't show a broken and battered and bloodied boy. Well, he was still battered, but was far from broken.

Beneath that grime and gore was the slacker boy who was a genius when it came to Math and sucked at English and still had troubles speaking.

The boy who loved hockey but sucked at playing it and would constantly get into arguments about it with his best friend.

The boy who gamed for hours straight and badly needed to work out and managed to injury his knee one of the few times he actually went outside.

The boy who blew up watermelons with friends and jumped from windows to avoid his mother's wrath and nearly burned down a hotel in Calgary.

I was still there. Despite the trials of the night, my old self survived. And I intended on keeping it that way.

I felt a surge of hope. I had control over this. I may not be able to control what happened in the world, but I was able to control how I reacted to it. I could control how I chose to survive this thing.

I was going to go at it with hope. The hope that Steve and Jasmine and my family were still out there. That there were more good people out there like Eric and Miranda and Steve and Becca and Officer Aaron.

I was going at this with proper morals. Killing was still wrong, but when it came to my friends and their lives, they'd come first.

If I was going to survive the apocalypse, I was going to do it the right way. The Leander Kuan Thompson way.

My way.


	18. Well Needed Rest

"Well, look who's still alive."

I sent a grin to Eric as I stepped out of the bathroom. He lay on a counter, one over from Steve, watching me with a small smile.

"Did you think I was lying, mate?" Miranda demanded, arms crossed and glaring daggers at the Pikachu.

Eric shuffled a few inches away from the Machop. "Just saying it's good to see him again." He turned back to me. "Seriously, Lee, I'm glad to see you're alright."

"Yeah, we were all really worried when we heard you screaming," Becca said quietly. She sat against a sink away from the Pokémon. Her eyes were puffy and red, dried tracks streaking her cheeks.

I felt a strong pang of guilt. This was just as hard for her as it was for me. Worse, even. While I was running outside focussing only on trying to stay alive, Becca was left alone to brood with these dark thoughts. She'd probably been holding that in for hours and I'd left her right when she needed some comfort. Just left her so I could have my own breakdown.

"Don't worry. I'm fine now," I said, giving Miranda a thankful glance. She nodded knowingly. "Thanks, though." My stomach rumbled and I noticed just how hungry I was. It also brought up what Becca's mom put into the bag other than clothes. "Hey, Becca. Come here for a sec."

"Why?"

"I need to show you something."

Reluctantly, the younger girl stood and hobbled over. I realized how similar she walked compared to her mom, both favouring one leg over the other.

I mentally face-palmed. I forgot about her busted leg. How did I have such terrible memory?

Feeling even worse, I barely noticed when she stood in front of me. "So what is it?"

I broke out of my trance and smiled. I shrugged my shoulder to dislodge the bag and placed it on the counter next to Eric. "Your mom decided to pack a little surprise in here for you," I told her, unzipping the bag and holding it open for her to see inside.

Her face brightened up and she rummaged in the bag. She squealed in delight, emerging from the canvas with a massive grin plastered on her face. In both hands she clutched bright green packages.

"Bear Paws!" she exclaimed, thrusting a pastry into my hands. She did the same to the stunned Pokémon on the counter. "I can't believe she remembered to pack these."

"You like them?" I guessed. My brownie had already been opened and a had nice chunk taken out of it. Eric was sniffing his curiously, and Miranda just stared at the package.

"Like them? I _love_ them!" she said again before peering into the bag again. "There must be a _dozen_ in here at least. That's enough for all of us. Even Steve!" She checked again, as if to confirm that this was real and her brow furrowed, her smile disappearing. She reached in and muttered, "Wait, what's this...?"

She pulled out a small paper rectangle. She breathed in sharply as soon as she saw it. "Oh..." she choked out. I could have sworn I heard her suppress a sob. By the way her eyes watered, I don't think that I was too off to assume that.

Letting out a shaky breath, she folded the paper and slid it into her pocket. She sniffed and wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"Becca... are you okay?" I asked in concern. Her whole body shook, so I wrapped her in a quick hug. She continued to shiver in my arms, but less so. "What else did your mom pack?"

"I-it's n-nothing," she said quietly. Her reaction told me it was anything but nothing. However, I chose not to pry. I didn't need another breakdown. She pushed herself away from my embrace. "I'm just... cold. It's really cold in here."

"Yeah, there's a bit of a nip in here," Miranda agreed, rubbing her arms.

"I don't feel anything," Eric said.

"That's 'cause you have fur, dummy."

"Nah, it's actually pretty cold in here," I said as an icy shiver passed through my body. All that running around outside warmed me up so well that I barely noticed the cold. Standing in just a sweater in the freezer of a kitchen quickly numbed any exposed skin, even with my natural tolerance for cold.

"I thought about lighting a fire, but I remembered that its bad to light one indoors. Carbon monoxide poisoning or something like that," Becca said, scratching her head. "Anyways, I decided not to."

I gaped at her, "Now how did you know that?"

"My dad told me about it. He's a firefighter... _was_ a firefighter." She frowned at her shoes briefly before clearing her throat. "Well, he told me a lot about fires. When you burn something inside, the smoke can't escape and blocks out the oxygen. That's why so many people die in fires. Not because they burn to death, but because they suffocate."

That was a morbid thought. I didn't want to imagine how horrible it would have been to come back to two dead bodies. Even worse would have been explaining to Becca's mom that her daughter asphyxiated in a kitchen by herself. I was glad that she chose to freeze a little rather than risk suffocation.

"Well, we still need a way to warm up," I mumbled, suppressing another shiver.

"Lighting a fire is not completely out of the option," Eric piped up. We all turned to him.

"Explain," I said, crossing my arms.

"If I'm not mistaken, we're in a kitchen. Kitchen's are where they cook, right?" he paused, as if actually waiting for an answer. I nodded my head. "In order to cook, you need heat. We have plenty of stoves, elements and heat lamps in here. If they're gas powered, it's most likely natural gas which will burn cleanly. That would mean no carbon monoxide is produced, only C-O-2, which isn't poisonous to us. The heat from all these devices will warm up the air, which will flow through the room by convection. Sure, it will be a slow process, but it'll work."

The rest of us just stared at Eric, jaws hanging. I recovered first. "Where the hell did that come from? I thought you guys didn't remember anything, yet you're quoting a damn science textbook."

"I guess we just lost our memories. Personal lives and such," Eric said with a shrug. "We still remember everything we learned before. We just don't know how we know those things."

"Yeah, that's how I still know how to fight," Miranda declared proudly, flexing her muscles. "Eric must have been a nerdy little bugger before, just like I must have been an amazing scrapper."

Eric nodded. "Muscle memory. You can't just wipe an entire mind clean."

"So that's how we remember our names!" Miranda exclaimed.

"Yup. Something's got to remain."

"Wait, so does that mean you guys actually remember who you were before all this happened?" I quickly asked, a sudden thought sending my mind racing. Sadly, this time Eric shook his head. I sighed and deflated. "That sucks... are you sure that stove thing will work?"

"Almost completely certain," Eric confirmed. I raised an eyebrow at 'almost'. "You can't say anything for sure. There's always a chance, no matter how small, that it will go differently. I'm like ninety-nine percent sure that this will work."

I still didn't like the 'almost' part. The last thing I wanted was to survive all the horrors of tonight only to suffocate in my sleep. We needed a better way for this. It's not like we had many options. A doughnut joint didn't come loaded with blankets and pillows.

But they did come with comfy seats in booths. I eyed a pair of sharp knives, used to cut bread for sandwiches. Would they be able to cut through thick fabric?

I grabbed both of them. I guess we'd be figuring out soon enough. I tossed one to Miranda, who barely caught the hilt with a yelp.

"Oi! Whaddaya think you're doing throwing knives at me?" she demanded, waving the blade threateningly. "You an idiot, mate?"

I smiled sheepishly. Yeah, I was an idiot. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to impale you."

"Then why're you throwing knives?"

"I need your help with something."

She raised an eyebrow and studied the blade. "Is it dangerous?"

I looked at the door to the restaurant. The metal hid any glimpse to the condition of the world we had locked ourselves away from. A world that actively tried to kill us.

"I'll let you decide." I leaned down and whispered my plan into her ear.

When I stood up, she locked me with a highly skeptical look.

"Are you bat-shit insane?" she demanded.

"Heh, yeah. You can say that."

* * *

"That was fast," Becca commented from the sinks as we slammed the door behind us a few minutes later. My insane plan had worked quite well.

Why did Miranda call me insane, then? Well, it wasn't that crazy. Sure as hell wasn't safe though. We needed blankets and stuff to keep us warm, but there was nothing of the sort in the kitchen. However, I knew exactly where we could find some.

They were just outside in the form of the cushioned booth seats. Directly in view of the many windows to the street outside where monsters lurked.

Wielding knives, Miranda and I sneaked out of the kitchen. We skinned and gutted the booths for their insulation and thick fabric. I cut, she ripped. I gathered, she rolled. All we needed were five bundles for our group anyway. A few minutes later, we headed back inside.

All in all, things went well.

Becca rubbed her leg. "Last time you went out it took hours to get back."

"Not to mention the lack of new friends," Eric added with a smile.

"Yeah, things went smoothly," I grinned. "That never happens."

"Alright, 'nough chit-chat," Miranda said, walking over to Becca. The younger girl shied away. The Machop laughed and lobbed a bundle towards her. "Time to hit the hay. I'm knackered."

She unravelled her bundle, laying the foam down as a pad and pillow and curling up next to Becca under the improvised blanket. The younger girl laughed as the Machop started snoring after seconds.

"I really hope she doesn't do that all night," Eric muttered. "Do I get a sleeping bundle as well?"

"Sure you do," I said and tossed him a bundle. He ducked it and it rolled off the counter and onto the floor.

"Come on, Lee. Did you really need to throw it that hard?" Eric deadpanned, looking with dismay at his fallen bedspread.

"Should have caught it, man," I chuckled before looking over at Steve.

The Totodile was left apart from everyone else, resting on the same counter. After losing that much blood, he'd be colder than the rest of us. And he was a crocodile too, so wouldn't that mean that he was cold-blooded? Well, that was taking in the rules of the real world, and I don't think that those applied so well anymore.

Regardless of his anatomy, he would need a blanket if he was going to make it through the night.

I tried to figure out the best way to lift him. He was knocked out, so I guess pain wasn't really a factor in picking him up. But I didn't want to cause him any pain should he suddenly wake up.

As I slid my arms under his head and legs, his eyes fluttered open. His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke. "Hey... you're... still alive."

"Of course, man," I said. "You really think I was going to die on you?"

"It's just... good... to see you're fine," Steve said. He barely had the strength to keep his eyes open. He coughed violently, flecking my hand with watery blood. His breaths turned to pathetic wheezes.

"Shit, Steve... are you okay? I asked. Coughing up blood was never a good sign.

"No... no, I'm not. Pain... it...really hurts..." he groaned, face contorting into a grimace. "I'm not... I don't think... I'm living... through this. But... you gotta... I gotta... tell you something... important... "

"Steve, don't talk like that. You'll be fine!" I lied, trying to reassure the broken crocodile. Anything to help him get better. Just give him some hope. "You will make it through this, and you're gonna heal and you'll be fine."

"Heh... that's... crazy talk, Lee... it's just... I'm just ... I'm... I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

Steve's head went limp, cutting off the rest of his apology. I waited with bated breath for him to continue, until I realized that that was it.

Panicking, I checked his neck for a pulse. Feeling nothing again, I moved to his chest and felt the faint fluttering of a failing pump. He simply fell unconscious again.

But how long did he have left until that faint heartbeat of his ceased entirely?

He knew it. I didn't want to admit it, but I knew too. All the signs were there and it was pointless to ignore them.

Steve was dying. That gunshot had taken his toll on him and the Totodile's life was ticking away. Internal bleeding, infection, blood loss – They were all ebbing away at his life.

My mom told me stories about this all the time. The ones she couldn't save. The ones that slipped away before she could do anything about it. As an emergency worker, she dealt with life threatening injuries all the time. And sometimes, there was nothing that could be done for the poor individual's life.

She still tried though. Even when she knew it was hopeless, she still tried to save their lives. She had the hope that there was a chance that they could pull through. That she could make a difference. All she needed was a little hope.

Maybe that's what I needed. Hope that Steve would pull through. I did all I could for the Totodile. Now I would just have to wait and hope for the best. Maybe that's all it took. Maybe it would be enough.

Just simple hope.

I gingerly picked Steve up in my arms, wrapping him tightly in the scavenged fabric. Hope was needed, but also some simple common sense. No way was I leaving Steve by himself on a cold counter. Not when he was so close to death.

I joined Becca and Miranda at the sinks with the bundled Steve. Becca was already wrapped in her blanket, gazing at the slip of paper from before. I placed the foam against the wall and floor next to her, saving some for a pillow. Once seated comfortably, I draped my blanket over both Steve and I.

Eric limped over and took a place on Becca's lap. The girl barely noticed as he curled up, pulling his blanket over his small, bandaged body.

We were an odd sight, I imagine. Two kids huddled under cut up cushions in a dim kitchen in the back of a Tim Horton's, with three battered creatures that were only supposed to exist in games sleeping alongside them.

Odd might have been an understatement.

Becca's breathing slowed and she snuggled up next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. Her arms went limp, resting on top of the blanket. She finally fell asleep. Now I was the last one awake.

I went to tuck in her arms under the blankets when I saw the slip of paper clutched in her hands. It wasn't blank, but I could tell what was on it. What was on that paper that nearly reduced her to tears again.

My curiosity got the better of me. Careful not to disturb her sleep, I pried the slip from her hands. One glance was all it took to understand her reaction.

It was a picture, shot in a lush forest. A family of four smiled widely at the camera. I recognized Becca instantly, her long brown hair trying in vain to obscure her giant grin. Her two fingers had stealthily crept up behind a boy's head, who was slightly taller than her. The older woman was Becca's mom, looking much younger than she did when I found her in the apartment. Her arms were wrapped lovingly around a very tall, bulky man, whose shaggy sandy hair matched the younger boy.

I'd never seen the boy and older man, but I knew who they were instantly. They were Becca's brother and father. Her missing family.

The family that she would never see again.

I put the photo back in her hands and hid them under the blanket. Becca lost half her family tonight. Would I ever see mine again?

Had they disappeared like everyone else? Would my last words to my siblings be a crude joke? Would my last act towards my parents be running away from home after a failed essay?

When was the last time I told any of them that I loved them? Would I ever get to tell them it again?

Yeah, I would see them again.

I don't know where that answer came from, or with such confidence. All I knew was that I needed them to be alive. My family had survived. Somewhere in the suburbs, they were worrying about me just as much as I worried about them.

Same for my best friend. And for Jasmine. They were both living as well. They didn't disappear like everyone else did.

I didn't care how unlikely it was for this to happen. Eric spoke the truth. Account for even the smallest chances, because they can happen.

And they had happened.

I rested my head against the cold stainless steel sink, staring at the burned out light above my head. The bulb was dead, fizzled out, just like most of the lights in the kitchen. Just like so many lives in the city.

But a few were still bright and shining. Still alive. They were the odd ones that lived, just like my odd little group. Just like my family and friends.

I would find them. I just needed to sleep first. Find them in the morning.

As I stared at the ceiling, I knew that was a long shot. Sleeping in these conditions? Hah, forget about it.

Maybe I just needed a little hope. Hope for sleep too, along with everything else I was hoping for.

Soon enough, my eyelids drooped and my world faded to black. The night was over.

But the horrors of this world had just begun.


	19. Pancakes and Sadness

The aroma of cooking batter reached my nostrils. I breathed in deeply, savouring the sudden and delicious smell. The prospect of breakfast was tantalizing enough to get me to roll out of bed.

My eyes shot open. I stared at a maple leaf adorned pillow case, laying on my stomach on the Oiler's bedspread.

I was in a bed. My bed. And after quickly looking around, I realized I was in my room.

No Tim Horton's kitchen. No Becca. No injured Pokémon friends. Nothing to show that the events of the previous night had ever happened.

I gazed deeply into the static of the TV. Considering I wasn't in pajamas, I must have passed out and forgotten to turn off the TV. Odd, since I rarely ever fell asleep that quickly, but I wasn't going to complain about a good night's sleep.

Could it have all just been a dream? A nightmare spawned from my overactive imagination? It felt so real. Then again, so did my room.

I headed to the bathroom, not to relieve myself but rather check the mirror. The gash on my head from the car crash wasn't there. Pale skin showed instead of a layer of blood. My hair was still black, devoid of any red tinge. I cracked a smile.

It was just a dream. Last night never happened. I didn't get baptised in blood. I didn't have to kill anyone or lose my best friend and entire family or see anyone die.

I inhaled deeply. An even sweeter smell mixed with the cooking batter and the salty scent of burnt grease made my mouth water.

Chocolate chip pancakes and bacon. My mom's way of starting off a Saturday morning. Because it was Saturday and my life was still normal.

My stomach rumbled. I couldn't resist the urge for food and rushed down the hall and stairs to the kitchen. My socks lost traction on the tile and I slid around the corner, nearly face planting into the wall. I still hit it with enough force to knock a painting off its hook. I recovered just in time to catch it before the frame shattered on the floor. Cheers erupted from the kitchen.

"Christ, Lee! Who knew you could hit that hard?"

"Maybe you should try that body check in hockey rather on our house!"

"Just tell him they got his bacon."

I did a little bow as I entered the kitchen. That earned another round of laughs from my siblings. My dad just shook his head, but his smile didn't escape me. My mom cooked the pancakes while the other five members of my family sat at the table that was stocked high with food and drinks.

Wait... five?

My dad and his massive build occupied the head of the table. His massive, callused hands were wrapped around his morning coffee. James, a clone of our father, sat right next to him. His bed-head did nothing in convincing me that he didn't just wake up. The opposite was to be said about Sora, whose vibrant pink hair contrasted heavily to her Asian face which was ordained with her usual scowl.

But that didn't account for the other two additions.

"Allen! May!" I exclaimed, gaping at my other two siblings. "When did you get here? I thought you guys were in Calgary."

"'Were' being the key word there," Allen said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He had a nice bit of stubble going. "We drove in last night. You were already asleep by the time we rolled in."

May wrapped me in a bear hug. "It's good to see you again, Lee," she said while squeezing any breath I had from my lungs. "It's been too long!"

My family was odd. Both my sisters had taken after my mom and Korean traits, with their angular faces and dark hair and eyes, while my brothers took after my Canadian dad and his light eyes. My parents had taken turns naming us. My brother's received white names and my sisters had gotten more oriental names.

Then there was me. My parents collaborated with my name, giving me one that related to my mom's roots and could be shortened down to something more English-like. I took after both of them, it seemed. It matched well, considering I seemed to have a mix of all my siblings' personalities and had two different coloured eyes. We had no idea where the green one came from.

A hybrid, they called me. I liked that title. Sounded like something out of a myth.

"Here, Leander," my mom said, nudging a plate in my arm. She was one of the few that called me by whole name. "Eat up. You're too skinny."

Classic mom. Always trying to force food down my throat. She didn't seem angry at me, which was strange considering she chased me out the window last night because of a failed English essay.

Unless that was part of the dream too. Which meant I had no reason to be angry at Sora for ratting me out.

Damn. I wanted some justifiable revenge on her.

Chatter resumed as I sat down at the large table. James bored on about working as a petroleum engineer. May told us how living in Calgary was and of her life as a nurse. Allen recounted his tales of going to school in Toronto. Sora complained about how her courses were too challenging for her.

I just sat silent throughout their conversations. I didn't have much to contribute, but I never talked much anyways. I was just happy to see the whole family back in one place again. Since they all started going to university and starting their lives elsewhere, I rarely saw us all together in one place.

So I listened as I loaded up my plate with baked bacon and pancakes, smothering both in maple syrup.

A piece of pancake was halfway to my mouth when the doorbell rang. I paused, staring at my siblings. As one, our fingers all rushed to the tips of our noses. Sora got it last.

I grinned at her. Whether she ratted me out or not, I finally got some revenge.

"Go get it, Lee," she told me, wiping the smirk off my face.

"What? No!" I protested. "You lost. You get the door."

"You're the youngest. You have no say in this."

"You always pull that when you lose," I grumbled sullenly. Regardless, I pushed myself from the table. "It's a bullshit rule."

"Language, young man!" my mom scolded, giving me a sharp slap on the back of my head with the spatula. My siblings burst out laughing once again.

I rubbed the back of my head. "Sorry, _mother_." I said as insincerely as possible. I ducked another swing and ran into the hallway before she could catch me. The bell rung again. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."

I opened the door, annoyed that someone interrupted my breakfast. The feeling diminished somewhat when I saw who was ringing the bell.

"You look pissed," Steve commented with a grin. His Blackhawk's snapback was secured snuggly over his cornrows.

"Did we interrupt something?" Jasmine asked. She was still bundled up in her parka. Reasonable, since it was freezing outside.

"Only breakfast," I answered truthfully. I was still a bit annoyed at the interruption. "What's up?"

"Well, let's not keep you waiting in suspense. We have a surprise for you," Steve said. He reached into his coat pocket and embellished the reveal of three thin paper rectangles.

"What are they?"

"Only three tickets for tonight's hockey game," Jasmine answered with a large grin.

"Edmonton versus Chicago. The match up we've been waiting for all year," Steve said, barely able to keep the excitement from his voice. "Lower bowl, centre ice. It's going to be _sick!_"

"What...buh... how did you manage to score those tickets?" I sputtered.

"Does it really matter?" Jasmine said, her smile intensified at my reaction. "Are you in?"

Screw that foreboding sense of déjà vu that I felt. No way was I passing this up. "Hell yeah I am!" I pumped my fist in the air. It fell and I became more serious. "Was it really necessary to come this early, though?"

"Eh, we were too excited to wait," Steve said with a shrug. He looked longingly inside, where the warm aroma of pancakes floated out. I noticed the same look on Jasmine's face as well.

"So, um, what's for breakfast?" Jasmine asked innocently.

"Bacon and chocolate chip pancakes," I told them and their faces lit up with hunger. "Lemme guess: you guys haven't eaten yet, have you?" They both shook their heads. I chuckled before turning back to the house and yelling, "Hey, mom! Can Steve and Jasmine join us?"

"The three amigos are always welcome!" she called back. She just wanted them to taste her cooking. I didn't think my friends would mind that though.

"I think that's a yes."

I stepped aside for them to come in, and they practically exploded out of their coats and rushed into the kitchen. My family wouldn't care. Steve and Jasmine were basically Thompsons.

I followed them in, reclaiming my seat. My friends had already piled their plates with food and were digging in. No one saw this as odd.

I smiled. Just another, normal Saturday. The chatter seemed to fade as I picked up my fork, the pancake still impaled by the tines and brought it to my mouth. I bit down, expecting the sweet sugary rush of chocolate and syrup to follow.

Only I bit down on nothing.

I stared at the fork. It was unusually long. The food was no closer to my mouth as it was before. I tried bringing it to my mouth but it only got farther away.

I looked at my family and friends for an explanation. I could see them talking, their mouths moving, but their voices were faint. Distorted. Like they were underwater.

The table started extending away from me. I reached for the food, but it was far out of reach now. No one noticed that I was being pulled away from them. I tried calling out to them, but my voice didn't work. All that came out was a silent scream.

The kitchen table and its occupants got farther and farther away until they were no more than a speck in a sea of black. Then, they were gone.

Vanished. Just like that. Food, friends and family were gone. The warmth of my house was gone too, replaced by a chilling cold. The only thing that remained was the light smell of cooked batter.

I woke with a start, gasping for breath.

The dull gray of the Tim Horton's kitchen welcomed me back from the realm of sleep.

I slammed my head on the sink. Why? Of all the things I could have dreamed about, why did it have to be _that_? I could deal with reliving the horrors of last night. Seeing my parents and friends all happy around the table? That was torture. It reminded me of the thing that I wanted the most. To get my normal life back. I just wanted to stay there forever. Live in a dream for the rest of my life.

But no. I'd been forced into the nightmare that had replaced real life.

Becca snorted in her sleep, drawing my attention to the mass of bodies next to me.

Everyone was wrapped in their blankets. Sometime during the night, Becca keened over and curled into the fetal position on the floor. Steve had nestled himself in the crook of Becca's arms, snuggled in his cocoon. Miranda was using the younger girl as a backrest, snoring quietly on the fleshy pillow. Eric had curled up next to Miranda under his small bundle of blankets.

The four of them sleeping together reminded of the days where I would hunker down for the night with my parents when I couldn't sleep. We were just like a family. One really weird and mismatched family.

Steve had survived the night. We were all still together. Still alive.

I guess reality wasn't so bad.

I caught another whiff of pancakes and my stomach growled. That's why I smelt pancakes in my dreams. I was in a Tim Horton's kitchen. This place was stocked with sweet pastries.

My stomach's protests for food won over and I stood up. I nearly buckled back to the floor, barely managing to stifle a sudden cry of pain.

My entire body hurt. Like really, really hurt. Muscles I didn't even know I had ached. My knee throbbed, shoulder ached and pretty much every part of my body killed. Last night had really done a toll on me. More than I knew last night.

Man, I really hope I didn't mess up my knee again. I had a feeling that finding a good physio in the post-apocalypse wasn't very likely. I pushed the thought out of my mind to focus on the more direct need.

Food.

What did we have for food?

Well, doughnuts of course. They lined the counters and the trays outside. They were probably frozen solid, but I doubted that would stop me from biting into a double chocolate. Doughnuts weren't on my mind though. I wanted something else. Something similar, but more homely.

I was going to make pancakes and bacon. My dream family got to eat them, so I'll be damned if I wasn't going to join in on the meal. The ingredients had to be in here.

I started searching. The chocolate chips were already out by the doughnuts. I found the flour under a counter, along with the baking powder and sugar. I checked the fridges, only to find that most of them had stopped working, like most of the electronics, resulting in their contents frozen. One was still working, thankfully, and I pulled out the milk, eggs and butter. A quick raid of the meat drawer ended in two packs of maple smoked bacon.

I mixed the ingredients by a large, industrial size element. The flat sheet of stainless steel started to warm as I switched it on. The size of the griddle would make cooking breakfast so much faster than with a simple frying pan.

I mixed the batter while the griddle heated. The batch I was making would easily serve six people. This meal was usually reserved for family on a Saturday morning, or the rare sleepover.

I glanced back at the pile of sleeping people. People who I would call friends after last night. Were they my family? No.

But after all we'd been through, they were close enough.


	20. The Next Morning

Eric was the first one to wake. The Pikachu sauntered over to where I was cooking, moving slowly over the countertops.

"That smells heavenly," he said. His gaze was locked to the bacon, which was just starting to sizzle. "What do you call it?"

"Uh... which one?" I asked, pointing between the batter and meat.

"Those pink strips."

"Bacon."

"Does it taste as good as it smells?"

I laughed. "When it's cooked by me, then yeah, it's pretty amazing."

Eric smiled and lay down on the steel. I checked his bandage from the corner of my eye. The left side was stained red. I wondered if it was still bleeding beneath the cloth. Maybe it had scabbed over by now. Either way, he was going to need a new one.

"It feels fine," Eric told me, catching my gaze. "Much better than yesterday, at least. I can barely feel it. It only stings a little."

"I guess a little rest goes a long way, eh?" I said, flashing a grin.

"Yeah, it does," he agreed. "Why are you up so early? You look really beat. Some sleep could do wonders for you too."

I thought about this as I flipped the pancakes. How many times had I been asked that question? Why do you always look so tired? Why don't you sleep?

Truth was, I had no idea. My parents claimed it was lack of exercise. I claimed that that was a load of bull. Lack of exercise doesn't cause you to spend entire nights staring at the ceiling. It wasn't every night that I experienced insomnia, but after five years of it on and off, I would classify it as a problem.

Instead of giving Eric my entire sleep history, I said, "I've never been able to sleep well. Waking up early is normal for me."

I paused mid-bacon-flip as I realized something. What time was it even? I didn't even know what time it had been when we had fallen asleep. I rummaged in my pocket and pulled out my phone. I tried turning it on, but was greeted by a blank screen.

Right. It was dead. I'd forgotten about that. It seemed like years ago when Steve and I first hid in this kitchen.

I quickly shifted the contents of the grill to a plate to prevent them from burning. One of my hands worked on its own accord while I used the other to pry off the back of the phone. An acrid smell blocked out the smell of crisp bacon. I guess that's why my phone didn't work.

The battery was fried. The plastic around it had been melted and burned. I wasn't a technician, but you didn't need to be one to realize that the phone was ruined.

"Hey, Eric, you're a smart guy. What do you make of this?" I asked the Pikachu, holding the fried phone close to him to see. He recoiled at the smell of burnt plastic.

"It seems that the circuit overloaded," he concluded after collecting himself. "The current was too much for the circuitry to handle and exceeded the max heat, frying the interior."

"Have any idea what caused it?" I asked. He shook his head. "Yeah, same. But it seems like the same thing happened to other electronics. Most of the light bulbs are burned out. And a bunch of the stoves and fridges in here don't work either."

Eric adopted a thoughtful look. "When you and Becca were speaking, I overheard something about a pulse. That pulse seemed to have triggered the disappearance of most of you humans. But it may have also been an EMP, which would explain why the electronics don't work. You do know what an EMP is, right?"

I nodded. "Short for electromagnetic pulse. They overload the circuits or something to destroy any electronic device."

"Exactly."

"I don't think it can just be that, though. Not every electronic was fried. This stove still works. A few lights are still on here and there. Hell, my DS is still working. If it was an EMP, it wasn't fully effective."

"That's the only logical reason I can think of," Eric said, shrugging. Then he added with a smile, "Or it could have been aliens."

We both got a nice chuckle out of that. I spooned more batter onto the grill. The surface was so large I was able to fit the rest bowl onto it.

"Hey, do you prefer to be called Lee or Leander?" Eric asked. "I never got to see which one you favour."

"Uh... Lee, I guess. That's what everyone else calls me. Except my mom," I said as I opened up the second package of bacon. Worry tugged at the edge of mind at the thought of my mom. I pushed it away. She was fine. I stopped with a raw strip in hand and looked at Eric. "Wait, when did I ever tell you my full name?"

He shifted awkwardly. "You didn't. I overheard you telling it to Miranda."

Telling it to Miranda? That was back at the Collector's hideout. That meant...

"Were you a captive too?" I asked him. I didn't need to specify. Eric nodded knowingly. I didn't remember seeing a Pikachu bound up with the other Pokémon. Suddenly, it clicked. The flash of light. The bolt that knocked the machete out of the Collector's hand. Why the steel was so hot. "That was you! You fired that bolt. You stopped the Collector from killing me!"

"It was spur of the moment," he said sheepishly. "I didn't want to see you get your head cut off."

"Well thank God you did," I sighed, returning to laying out the bacon. "Damn, I guess I owe you for saving my life, eh?"

A loud growl emanated from Eric's stomach. He fixed me with an innocent look, his eyes flicking to the plate. Where had I seen that before?

"Pass me some of that bacon and we're even."

"Deal."

* * *

The rest of the group couldn't resist the smell of cooking bacon for very long. A few minutes after Eric devoured half a plate of bacon, our sleeping friends joined us by the stove. Their faces lit up at the sight of the warm food.

"Holy... who knew you could cook, Lee?" Becca said, eyeing the food with disbelief.

"What made you think I couldn't?" I asked.

"Just never labeled you as the cooking type."

"You learn something new every day," I said and slid a plate of bacon and pancakes over to her. Miranda gazed at the food dreamily and she soon had a plate of her own.

"Oh, that smells right good, mate," she moaned before diving into her food. Becca had a little more restraint, drenching her food with maple syrup before devouring it. I caught a glimpse of Eric shaking his head in disapproval.

On a different counter, I saw Steve sitting alone. He was awake at least, so that was a good sign. But he was still very pale and his mouth pulled in a permanent grimace.

Feeling bad for the Totodile, I piled two other plates with food and joined him by the counter. Miranda and Eric were chatting, occasionally trying to get Becca into it. The younger girl wasn't really participating, however.

"Hey, buddy. How're you doing?" I asked, hopping onto the counter next to him.

"Better," he said simply. "There's a lot less pain than there was yesterday."

"Yeah, and you aren't comatose," I laughed, munching on a piece of bacon. Steve chuckled also. I offered him the other plate. "You hungry?"

"Starving." He grabbed the plate and chomped down on the pile with his massive jaw, chewing with relish. "Oh, man, this is delicious. This is the best thing I've ever tasted!"

"Theoretically, due to our lack of memories, this could be the first thing we've ever tasted," Eric pointed out from across the room. Man, that guy's got a good ear. Steve paused while chewing, lost in thought as he stared at his food as Eric continued. "So, by default, it's the best thing we have ever tasted because it's the only thing we can remember tasting." I glared at him and he hastily added, "I'm not saying you're not a good cook, Lee. This is still amazing."

"Damn right it is," I said. I looked back at Steve, who was still oddly quiet and immersed in his food. "Hey, how about we join the others?"

"Nah, I'm good over here," Steve said quietly.

"You sure? If it's the pain that's stopping you, I can carry you ov-"

"Lee, I'm good," Steve said more forcefully, cutting me off. He went back to his food. He only concentrated on the pancakes, avoiding looking at me and our other companions.

"What's really going on here, man?" I asked lowly.

Steve sighed. "I don't know them, Lee. I have no idea who they are."

"Really? They're not mean or anything, if that's what's worrying you..."

"It's not that man," Steve sighed and fixed me with sad eyes. "I was out most of last night. I never got to meet them. You can say however many nice things about them, I have no idea who they are."

I sat in stunned silence, pondering what Steve said. Only for a moment though.

"Okay, that's a crappy reason," I told him. "C'mon, get up. You're joining their chat."

"What?" Steve exclaimed. "No, no, Lee, I don't wanna–"

"Hey, guys!" I called out to Becca, Eric and Miranda, interrupting Steve's complaints. They all turned to us and Steve went pale. "Did you guys meet Steve yet?"

"Kinda hard to have a proper talk when you're K-O'ed," Miranda smirked.

"Great. So you've got plenty to talk about then." Steve gave me a mortified look which quickly grew to horror when I scooped him up off the counter and plopped him down in the other's group. I did it carefully of course since I knew he was still very hurt.

"I think some introductions are in order," Eric started off to break the awkwardness. "I'm Eric, and I would really prefer if you don't call me by anything else."

"Miranda," the Machop pitched in. "I'm not as stuck up as Eric here. Call me whatever you feel like. Just don't be surprised if you get smacked if it's offensive."

"You already know mine," Becca said.

Steve scowled slightly. "Yeah, you're the girl who wanted to brain me with a baseball bat when we first met."

"Hey, my leg was almost torn off by a Pokémon a few minutes before that! Excuse me if I was a little off edge."

"Heh, now this sounds like an interesting story," Miranda chuckled.

With Steve now integrated in the conversation, I took the chance slink away from the group. There was something bugging me about this kitchen.

I climbed on top of a counter that was beneath a burned out light. Making sure I was out of sight, I removed the covering, exposing the dark glass tubes. I prodded one gently. It was frigid to the touch, so I carefully unfastened it.

I was hit once again by the smell of burnt metal. I checked the ends of the rods. Both metal end-caps were melted and burned, corroded beyond use. The fastenings in the ceiling were even worse the tube. I removed the other tube to confirm that it had a similar fate.

The nagging at the back of mind grew. What caused this? My phone, the streetlights, most of the electronics in the kitchen... what caused them to spontaneously burn out so violently?

Assyria claimed it was a power surge that knocked out that first streetlight. Eric said it was an EMP. But both of those theories had serious flaws with them. A power surge in the city grid wouldn't destroy my phone, and an EMP would destroy every electronic in the city. Half of a grade nine science education wasn't enough to solve this mystery. And that really bugged me. There were so many unanswered questions, but no one who could answer them.

I left the tubes on the counter and headed back to the group. I picked up what remained of the medical supplies on the way so I had an excuse for suddenly disappearing.

They didn't notice my return. Steve and Becca were listening with rapt attention as Eric and Miranda recounted their adventures of last night. It didn't sound familiar, so it must have been either after the Collector captured them or before.

"... so I'm trapped by a bunch of these goons on a table. I'm fighting, punching any wanker close to me. There was loads of them, though, and I only got so much arse-kicking left in me," Miranda recounted, throwing air punches as she talked. "Thought I was bloody done for, when outta nowhere comes this high-arse shout and all I see is this fuzz ball fly headfirst into the goons."

"I wasn't actually flying. I jumped from the third floor," Eric clarified. "It was the only way for this 'fuzz ball' to save your hide."

"Ah, stop being a smart arse," Miranda said, giving Eric a light punch on the arm. Light for Machop standards, that is. Eric yelped in pain and gave Miranda a reproachful glare. Doing so set his gaze in my direction.

"Hey, where did you disappear to?" he asked. His tone was a little bitter, but that may have been due to Miranda punching him. Everyone turned to me, their faces reflecting Eric's question.

In response, I held up the sparse remains of our medical supplies. The antiseptic was half used and the roll of bandages had two thirds left at best. We still had all the painkillers.

The sight of the supplies didn't spark cheers. Instead, my injured companions groaned loudly at the same time.

"Oh, that shit burns, mate," Miranda mumbled.

"I thought... I thought we already cleaned the cuts," Becca said, retracting her injured leg close to her body, as if to protect it from the very thought of pain.

Steve's face paled, his eyes filling with fear at the sight of the bottle. "Is it really necessary?" he asked quietly.

"It's probably for the best," Eric said lazily. "You never want an open wound to get infected again. It's never a bad idea to constantly keep them clean until they scab over and heal."

"Alright then, since you're so cool with it, you go first," Miranda challenged, crossing her arms.

Eric shrugged. "Okay then. I don't even know why you'd think you need it. You look fine."

I frowned. Oddly enough, Eric was right about that. Last night, I remember seeing Miranda all cut up and bruised. One of her eyes was blackened.

Now that I got a better look at her, she did look fine. Her grey hide was just that. Grey. No scratches or bruises. Just faint lines marked her skin where flesh once poked through mere hours ago.

If that wasn't odd enough, Eric looked mostly fine also. The bandage wrapping his abdomen had three lines of blood staining the area where he was slashed, but that was the only injury he seemed to have. His scratches were more prominent than Miranda's. However, they looked like they were weeks old, not hours. And his puffy and swollen face that he earned from the Collector had shrunk back to normal size and shape.

"So, are we doing this?" Eric asked, knocking me out of my confused observations.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, let's do it."

Miranda nudged away from Eric so I could get a better angle. Very carefully, I unravelled the Pikachu's bandages. They were sticky with blood, but were easy to pull off. When the last layer was removed, I took a step back, dumbfounded at what I saw. Miranda whistled. Becca's head cocked to the side. Steve simply raised an eyebrow, or the Totodile equivalent.

"What are you all gaping at?" Eric asked in annoyance, twisting his head to see his injury. His face softened to one of surprise also. "Oh... that's, um... that's unexpected."

Unexpected? A bit of an understatement here. I remember seeing the slash marks last night. They weren't pretty. Long and deep and gushing blood. Those types of injuries need stitches to ever heal properly, not a quick tape job.

So we were all shocked when instead of three oozing gashes, all we saw were three pale yellow ridges running across his side.

No way can someone heal that fast. I still had a scar on my wrist from a burn I got while learning how to cook pancakes. How do gashes like Eric's heal and scar over and fade to almost nothing in a matter of hours?

"You sure you don't have any idea about this?" I asked him. The genius Pikachu for once didn't have a theory and shook his head.

I thought suddenly struck me and I turned to Steve. Miranda had made a full recovery from her injuries from last night, so it wasn't farfetched. Did Eric's healing abilities apply to every Pokémon?

Steve locked eyes with me and knew exactly what I was thinking. He looked at his bandages and back at me, curiosity and hope filling his face.

"You really think...?" he began.

"Only one way to find out," I said.

Just as I did to Eric, I got to work unwrapping Steve. His bandages were older, so the blood had dried and made tugging the gauze off harder work. I had to be more careful because the Totodile's injury still hurt him. Regardless, I unwrapped him quickly and tossed the soiled cloth away.

I had prepared for two things when I saw Steve's stomach. The first being a raw and disgusting hole, and the second a blemish free patch of cream-coloured skin.

Somehow, I still managed to be caught off guard.

Steve's gut met halfway on my predictions. It wasn't fully healed, but there wasn't a gaping hole either. Instead, a circular indent of raw flesh had replaced the bullet wound. The edges around it were raised and jagged, and much of the skin was crusted over with blood. The exit wound on his back told the same story. No horrible injury. Just a disgusting looking circle of wrinkly, red skin.

The rational part of my brain refused to take this in as real. It was impossible. A hole in your stomach doesn't just stitch itself up overnight.

That's how I found myself cleaning both sides of the Totodile with disinfectant, trying to figure out how this was possible. And when removing the blood didn't help, I busted out my DS for a better source of light. But even the handheld's bright screen couldn't shed any light on this matter.

Steve's bullet wound was healed. The Totodile was just a walking miracle.

"You know what? I'm not even gonna try to figure this out," I said, throwing my arms in the air. I was smart enough to keep a strong hold on my DS. I may have been frustrated, but I didn't want to toss my handheld across the room. "Something weird happened, and it's actually a good thing for once. Let's just enjoy it. Screw trying to understand it."

"_I know why the Pokémon have recovered from their injuries at this rate_."

That time I actually dropped the DS. And I screamed. Shrilly. Why? Well, I had never heard that electronic voice before. And it came from the handheld. Reasonable reaction, right?

"What the _hell_?" I yelled, gaping at my DS on the floor.

"Since when do those things talk?" Becca muttered.

"They don't! They're not supposed to talk!"

"_In fact, I am supposed to talk_," my DS said in its electronic voice. "_All units have built in speech processors, allowing for voice commands and verbal communication of information_."

I crouched down and took a deep breath. Part of that was too calm down my racing heart so I didn't yell again. Also so I didn't make a fool of myself with my stutter.

"Exactly_ what_ are you?" I asked. "Or what have you become?"

"_I am the Pokédex 3000_," it announced. "_My main purpose is to act as an encyclopedia for knowledge on Pokémon. This is to aid travellers so they are not unprepared. This upgraded unit contains a multitude of features, such as the speech processor and an advanced electronic scanner, as well as a two petabyte memory and __a __lithium-ion battery._"

I understood about half of what the DS said. It seemed everyone else was just as dumbfounded, except for Eric of course. The Pikachu's jaw was currently resting on the countertop in amazement. I'd guess he understood it.

I knelt and scooped the DS – or the Pokédex – off the floor. The red and black case looked undamaged. Guess the upgrade to its hardware affected its durability as well.

"This is really weird," Becca said.

"We've seen weirder." I flashed her a smile and she tentatively returned it. I returned my attention to my handheld. "So, uh... you're a Pokédex now, eh?"

"_Yes. I believe we have already discussed this._"

"Yeah, just making sure I'm not going crazy."

"Don't mean to interrupt," Eric spoke up, "but I believe the, er, Pokédex was about to explain why Pokémon are capable of healing this fast."

Oh, right. I barely registered what it said before I rudely dropped it. "Care to continue?"

"_Certainly,_" the Pokédex said and then launched into a massive tangent. "_Pokémon are extremely durable creatures bred to be strong and versatile fighters. This is due to their remarkable metabolism. It is much stronger and faster than that of humans, capable of converting food to energy more efficiently. The Pokémon's body is able to store an abundant amount of this energy to be used in various ways. _

_"A Pokémon is able to synthesize energy into their element. A Pikachu, for example, is able to unleash this energy in the form of electricity. If not specialized, Pokémon can use this energy in different types of elements at a reduced strength. Or, in the case of fighting types, it makes their melee attacks much more powerful by transferring it to their muscles. This energy does not only pertain to attack. If unused, the energy is used to heavily bolster a Pokémon's healing functions. Minor injuries can disappear overnight. Major ones need more time, but heal regardless. However, the system is not perfect and sometimes results in a permanent scar_."

While most of it went over my head, I got the gist of the explanation. Pokémon convert food into energy and use it to heal. I'm pretty sure everyone got that much too.

I looked up from the screen at my friends. Becca was grumpy, glaring at her leg and wishing it would heal faster. Steve stroked his belly in amazement. Both Miranda and Eric looked at their hands, or paws, lost in thought.

"_Would you like to know anything more, Leander?_" the Pokédex inquired.

"You got the time?"

"_Yes. It is currently 12:47 pm, Mountain Time. Anything else you need?_"

"No, I'm good. Thanks," I told it.

"_I will now enter standby mode until you need me again._"

I closed the screen and returned the handheld to my pocket. I wasn't even fazed that it knew my name. It probably scanned my brain or something like that. Weirder stuff had happened today.

Anyways, I didn't want to add one more question to the pile of unanswered ones. I had enough problems to deal with. The newest one being time. I promised Becca's mom I'd bring her daughter back in the morning. It was well past that point now. Add that on top of finding Steve and my family, getting the hell out of this city and not dying, I had a lot of things to deal with. I should at least get one out of the way.

"Hey, Lee, still with us?" someone asked. I shook out of my trance and noticed it was Becca's voice. "What are we gonna do now?"

"Well, we don't have any amazing healing abilities." I held up the disinfectant. "You know what that means."

"A lot of screaming and pain?" she said blandly.

"Yup. And let's make it quick, kay?" I said, glancing around the room. "I'm getting really sick of this kitchen."

* * *

The next hour was a flurry of activity. Becca and I cleaned each other's wounds. Apparently we had done a terrible job last night. Our injuries were loaded with bacteria. Or at least that's what our disinfectant told us.

Both of us cried a little when the antiseptic sizzled on our open cuts, but I was still made fun of more. I guess being a guy meant I couldn't cry. They could all go screw themselves, though. It's not my fault I got branded with a dirty machete. That shit hurts to clean out.

So with my pride shattered even more, we got to work on planning. Actually, that didn't take very long. Step one was get to Becca's. And that was pretty much it. No one offered anymore input.

Packing took the majority of the time. Tim Horton's wasn't usually stocked with many non-perishable items. They prided themselves with freshly baked goods. Still, they had some freeze-dried and canned food. And because I love it, I snuck a few packs of bacon. As long as I kept it cold, the meat shouldn't spoil.

Miranda even had a bag of supplies. We made it using the blankets and some intricate folding and knotting. She also carried a large butcher knife for when her fists just weren't enough. Eric lucked out and didn't have to carry anything. Though almost fully healed, none of us wanted to push his injuries too far.

So they we were, all ready to go. Becca and I had our bags full of food. Mine had some of the valuables I received the night before, including the picture of Officer Aaron's family and the box of shotgun shells. We were nervous to leave the kitchen, but it was starting to feel a little constricting in there. While cold and dangerous and frightening, we all wanted to get outside into the fresh air. We wanted some freedom.

And that's when Miranda and Eric dropped the bombshell.

"We're not coming."

* * *

_**A/N:** Sorry for the long ass wait for this rather bland chapter. Just a lot of stuff needed answering and clearing up. Also a lot of stuff needed to be introduced. I get that there was a lot to absorb in just one chapter, so I'm gonna list them:  
_

_1. The majority of electronics have been fried. There's no pattern to which ones. And it affects EVERY electronic too. 2. The pulse that wiped out the electronics also resulted in the mass disappearance of humans and the sudden appearance of Pokemon. Are they related? That is unclear.  
3. Lee's DS is a Pokedex. Yes. That happened. Get used to it.  
4. Pokemon have super advanced healing processes. Much of what the Dex said was some random poop I made up and may or may not be true. (how cool would it be if I actually nailed it? SOMEONE CHECK THIS)  
_

_Uh... I think that was it. There's probably a bunch more from previous chapters that I missed or forgot about. Still confused? Leave a review or send a PM with your question. More than happy to respond and clear things up._

_Thank you all for sticking up with all these fillerish chapters. There will be a fight soon. And bloodshed. Oh so much bloodshed._


End file.
